A Second Chance
by Rhonda1
Summary: *~*Conclusion UPDATED*~*...Post-ATY. Sydney & Vaughn have been freed from Irina's clutches and are now in Rome for an evening of romance...But danger still lurks ahead...
1. A Mother's Love

**Disclaimer**: Most of the characters mentioned in this story belong to J.J. Abrams.  Minor appearances made by some of my own creation.

**Distribution**: Ask me first and let me know where so I can visit.

**Feedback**: Yes, please, it really makes my day.

**Spoilers**: None from Season 2.  I'm trying to be really good about not reading the major ones, but I caved and had to read a little one about Vaughn in Ep. 3.

**Summary**: Post-ATY.  Held prisoner by her mother, Sydney learns what happens to Vaughn.  There's actually a lot more to the story, but I can't give it away just yet.  Drama/Romance (that's a hint)/a little Action & Adventure.

**Author's Note**: Okay, before you completely pass on this one because it's **_ANOTHER_** post-ATY fic, please give it a chance, anyway, especially if you've liked anything else I've ever posted here.  I think it's going pretty well so far and I hope you'll think so, too.  I know the premise has been done before because there are only so many ways everyone can be related, but the plot is completely my own, as always.

P.S. I'm starting this one exactly a month before the Season 2 Premiere in the hopes that I can finish it by then. Anyway, here you go and I hope you enjoy.

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"Mom?" Sydney's voice trembled.

The woman in the shadows stepped out into the light. Sydney's lips parted in surprise. It was true. Her mother, Laura Bristow AKA Irina Derevko, was The Man.

"It is good to see you again, Sydney." It was odd to hear the slight Russian accent coming out of her mother's mouth. _Had she ever slipped up when I was a kid_? Sydney tried to remember, but her memories of her mother were so hazy. _I should have paid more attention_.

"I wish I could say the same." Sydney replied stiffly.

Irina Derevko pressed her lips together in a thin line. She had not expected Sydney to make this easy for her and as usual, her daughter did not disappoint her.

Sydney had a blank expression on her face as her mother--_no, I need to think of her as_ Irina--sat down in the chair Khasinau had previously occupied. She turned a speculative gaze on her daughter.

"I can't believe my little girl is all grown-up!" Irina remarked in a soft voice. "You're beautiful, Sydney, just as I knew you would be."

Sydney said nothing. The compliment didn't please her, considering the source, so it didn't warrant a response.

"I suppose I look very different to you." Irina mused with a brief smile. "Many years have passed."

"Is this where I'm supposed to say you haven't changed a bit, Mom?" Sydney said, sarcasm oozing from her voice. "Sorry, but you're not my young, beautiful mother I remember." Her anger made her cruel, but she knew her comment would hit at Irina's vanity. The mother she remembered always used to fuss and primp in front of the mirror right before her father was due home from work. In her mind's eye, Sydney could see her mother brushing her long dark lustrous hair and applying a rose-colored lipstick just as her father's car was pulling into the driveway. Laura would rush to greet him and they would kiss and he would tell her she looked beautiful as always.

"Does it make you feel good to hurt me, Sydney?" Irina's voice was hard.

"Well, you're not exactly welcoming me into your home." She gestured with her chin towards the restraints keeping her tied to the chair.

"That cannot be helped." Irina waved her hand dismissively. "I know you, Sydney. You would try to escape if I released you."

Sydney bristled. "Don't say you _know_ me! You know _nothing_ about me!"

"On the contrary, I know a great deal about you." Her mother contradicted her with a cool glance. She stood up and Sydney watched as Irina extracted a thick photo album from a nearby bookshelf. She then returned to her chair and opened the cover.

"Here is a picture of your first ballet recital. You were eight years old. Your father was in Tokyo, if I remember correctly, so your nanny was the person who watched you dance in your first performance." Irina turned the album so that Sydney could see the photo. She struggled to keep her features composed as she recognized the photograph of her and four other little girls in pink leotards and tutus. She had the same photo in an album back home.

"You were very upset at your father for missing the recital and you didn't even care that he brought you back a genuine Japanese kimono to make up for it." Irina gazed at her daughter, marveling that it was like looking at a younger version of herself, the imperturbable expression on Sydney's face mirroring her own. "You ignored him the whole time he was home, but after he left again, you got all dressed up and pranced around for your nanny." She pointed to the photograph of Sydney in full kimono regalia, her costume authentic right down to the wooden slippers on her feet and the chopsticks in her hair.

"How on earth would you have that photo?" Sydney demanded to know. "Mrs. Tennyson took those--" She stopped short and stared at her mother. "Did she work for you?" The words came out ragged. It pained her to think of that sweet old woman as being the pawn of someone as ruthless and calculating as Irina Derevko. Mrs. Tennyson had been like the grandmother figure in every storybook she had ever read, but if it turned out she had only been a plant in order to further her mother's contemptible agenda, then it would be just another lie to add to the pile she was unfortunately accumulating and that sickened her.

"How else would I have been able to keep tabs on you after I'd gone?" Irina replied blithely, not realizing how enraged Sydney was becoming. "Now here is the picture of when you scored your first soccer goal…"

"…and the class spelling bee when you won first prize…"

"…and your first junior high school dance…"

"…and your valedictory speech at your high school graduation--"

"Stop it! Stop it!" Sydney screeched when she could stand it no longer. "I don't want to hear anymore how you were spying on me through my nanny! Or should I call her your watchdog?" She felt tears sting at her eyes because she was so angry to have been a victim of deceit at such an early age. "Was she even British or was that a lie, too?"

Why she would ask such a _non sequitur_ of a question was beyond her comprehension, but she blamed it on stress and exhaustion and a certain other something she was afraid to even think about for fear of it becoming real to her.

To her credit, Irina didn't bother to lie to her. "No, she was not British, Sydney. She was Russian." Irina's manner had suddenly become subdued.

"Was she KGB?"

"No." Irina shook her head. "She was just an ordinary citizen."

"But if she worked for you, didn't she know who you were?" Sydney was confused. 

"Yes, Sydney, she knew who I was." Her mother looked her squarely in the eye. "But that was because she was my mother, Aleksandrina Derevko."

Sydney became very still as she absorbed this new tidbit of information. Margaret Tennyson AKA Aleksandrina Derevko had been her grandmother and she'd never even known it! The little woman with the white hair and the wide smile had been Sydney's one constant as she was growing up. Her father was never around for more than a few weeks at a time, but she could always count on Mrs. Tennyson for a kind word or a quick hug. Now to find out that she had held back such an important connection between them somehow tainted the memories Sydney had of her, forever tarnishing them.

Sydney was feeling so utterly frustrated at that moment, she wanted to scream and scream at the top of her lungs until she went hoarse. The lies never seemed to stop coming where Irina was concerned. How long was she to be subjected to this torture?

"She left when I went away to college." Sydney finally said, not wanting to let Irina see how deeply the news had affected her. "But of course you already knew that." Her voice was cold.

"Yes," Irina acknowledged. "She came back to Russia. I bought her a house and she lived there until she died two years ago."

Sydney lowered her head at the mention of her grandmother's death. Maybe in time, Sydney could come to recognize that the love which had been showered upon her as a child had been a very real and tangible thing, but for now, all she could think about was how Irina and her mother had duped her into believing in a person who had been nothing but a fraud.  

"She loved you with all her heart, Sydney, and she wanted very much to tell you who she was, but it was impossible." Irina said to her. "If your father had found out, he quite possibly would have trumped up some charges and had her thrown in prison just to get back at me."

Sydney's eyes grew stormy. "My father would not have done that!" She flung at Irina. "He may not be Father of the Year, but he would not have put my grandmother in jail on false accusations!"

Irina raised an eyebrow at her outburst. "You defend your father quite staunchly, Sydney, but we both know he isn't the most ethical man in the world."

"He does what he has to do to serve his country and protect his family." She said stonily. 

"Yes, I will grant you that." Irina agreed. "Jack would do anything to protect you."

Talking about her father made Sydney wonder what he was doing at that moment. He must have been frantic with worry when neither she nor Vaughn had shown up at their appointed meeting place. She knew he was doing everything in his power to find her right now.

"Why did it matter to you what happened to me after you left?" Her voice was tight. "You never cared about me or Dad. We were just your smoke screen so that you could play Little Miss KGB!" She said bitterly.

Irina gave her a long, hard stare. "Yes, I was a KGB operative, Sydney, and my main objective was to infiltrate the CIA through a union with one of its officers."  
  
"But you, Sydney, were not part of the plan." Irina continued. "I was not supposed to become pregnant as it would only complicate matters when I would have to leave my post."

"Well, I'm _so_ sorry I came along to _complicate_ your life!" Sydney said acerbically.

"But you didn't, Sydney, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Her mother gave her an imploring look. "I didn't realize it until I held you in my arms for the first time, but you _completed_ my life. I knew right then that I wasn't put on this earth to be a spy. I was here to be _your_ mother."

Sydney struggled to remain unmoved. "That's a very pretty speech, Irina, but after everything I know you've done, you can't expect me to believe you." 

"Sydney, leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do." Irina said gravely. "It nearly killed me to leave you behind, but I had no choice. The KGB thought your father was becoming suspicious and when they planned to extract me, I was given very little time to prepare."

"Are you saying you would have taken me with you?" Sydney was incredulous.

"I would have tried had it not been for the method in which they chose for me to disappear." She responded. "You hadn't taken your swimming lessons yet, Sydney. You were supposed to start the next summer." Irina gave her a helpless look. "I couldn't take you with me."

"Because I would have drowned when your car went into the river." Sydney finished for her, a lump rising unexpectedly in her throat.

"But I never stopped wanting you with me." Irina said with a fervent look on her face. "Everything I've done has led up to this moment when we could be reunited!"

"Oh, so now you're going the motherly devotion route, is that it?" Sydney narrowed her eyes. "Isn't that a little hard to pull off since you _abandoned_ me when I was six years old?" 

Irina gave her a look of exasperation. "Sydney, why can't you believe I'm sincere?" She asked sharply.

"Because everything you've ever done in your life wasn't for real." Sydney's voice was steely. "You were a fraud from the moment you wormed your way into my father's life and you left it the same way. You're nothing but a liar and a traitor and a murderer--"

"Enough!" Irina suddenly boomed at her, thoroughly incensed and unwilling to listen to her daughter's insults any longer. "I thought I could talk to you and make you understand, but you are clearly in no mood to listen to me now." She lifted the phone, said a few words in Russian, and then hung up. She crossed the room over to Sydney and proceeded to undo her bindings.

"I will never listen to anything you have to say." Sydney said witheringly as two burly men with very large guns appeared in the doorway.

"Take my daughter to her room." Irina ordered, waving her hand dismissively.

"Don't call me that!" Sydney barked at her, whirling around.

Irina froze in place and gave her a long look. "Did you find something objectionable in what I said?" Her voice was dangerously soft.

"Don't call me your daughter." Sydney said through gritted teeth. "My mother was Laura Bristow, but she was a woman who apparently never existed. Therefore, I don't have a mother." Sydney turned on her heel and her two escorts followed her out. She did not see the tremble of the older woman's mouth or her flinch when Sydney's words hit her.

Sydney was finally able to take stock of where she was behind held prisoner. They were in a house, a quite large one from what she could tell. The walls were made of white stucco and there were copper-colored Spanish tiles inlaid into the hardwood floor. The décor was simple, but surprisingly warm and inviting. It looked like a home, not a house, if that made any sense.

Irina's goons forced her up a sweeping marble staircase with a smooth, wide banister that led up to the second floor. One of them motioned at her with his gun to turn right and she obeyed, stopping when they did outside of a solid oak door. Sydney noted that it was the only room in this particular wing of the house that had a lock which opened from the outside. Goon #1 unlocked the door and Goon #2 shoved her into the room with a rather unceremonious push. The door closed behind her and they made a big deal of making a lot of noise as they were locking her inside. Sydney rolled her eyes and forgot about them.

She was finally alone. Sydney let her shoulders slump and she heaved a great big sigh. Her muscles suddenly felt like jelly and she sank onto the surprisingly comfortable bed. She took a moment to survey her surroundings.

The room she had been given was luxuriously appointed with a beautiful brass bed, the mattress firm with just a little give, which was exactly the way she liked it. A fluffy down comforter had been laid upon white silk sheets and the snowy pillows looked very appealing to her at that moment. A large intricately carved wooden armoire sat against one wall and the bathroom took up the opposite side. A matching dresser stood across from the bed, various little bottles and tubes neatly arranged across the top along with a silver hairbrush and comb. An ornate gilt-edged mirror was hung over the dresser, for her to use if she wished to apply her makeup.

If this room had been anywhere except in what was apparently her mother's home, she would have been thrilled with it. She liked the way the yellow flowers in the vase by the window matched the little yellow and blue sprigs in the wallpaper. She liked the thick woolly white rug that had been placed on top of the hardwood floor to ward off the early morning chill against her bare feet. She liked the overstuffed armchair sitting next to the window, a perfect spot in which to curl up with a good book. It was obvious that someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this room attractive and comfortable and under different circumstances, Sydney would have appreciated it.

But she knew that it was Irina who had done all of this for her and so she couldn't enjoy any of it. _She thinks if she makes this feel like a home that I'll start to believe I belong here_. _Why can't she realize that I will never feel at home as long as she's a part of my life?_

Sydney suddenly caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror opposite the bed and quickly closed her eyes when she saw the vision staring back at her. She looked like a mess. Her eye makeup was running, her lipstick had smeared and her jaw was tender and swollen from when they'd knocked her out. She suddenly felt a deep-seated urge to scrub herself clean--_down to the bone if necessary_, she thought with a slight exaggeration--just so that she could feel like herself again.

Sydney got up off the bed and wandered into the bathroom. Mommy Warbucks had struck again. Marble countertops, double basins with gold-plated fixtures, a deep porcelain tub with jacuzzi features and a shower big enough to hold four people very comfortably without worry of being poked in the back by pointed elbows.

All Sydney cared about at that moment was that there was enough hot water in the shower. She peeled off her grimy clothing, leaving it in a heap on the floor, and ripped off the electric blue wig so that she could wash her hair. She then stepped into the bronze-tiled shower, making the water as hot as she could stand it. She stood under the spray for a long while, not moving, not thinking, not doing anything, just letting it wash over her.

But then the water reminded her. It trickled into her ears and dribbled into her eyes, mingling with the tears she didn't even know were flowing. That picture of Vaughn's face in the window of the door kept flashing through her mind. He had looked desperate and panicked. She remembered feeling as if her heart had stopped when she realized he was trapped in a place from which she couldn't save him. Now that was more a reality than she cared to fathom.

She quickly dispensed with the actual washing of her hair and person and then stepped out of the shower. The room was full of steam, but she was able to make out the fluffy white bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and she wrapped it around herself. Then she grabbed one of the thick white towels on the countertop to soak up the water in her hair.

There was a blow dryer sitting next to the stack of towels. Sydney plugged it in, but when she looked up, the mirror was still fogged from the steam of her shower. She made no move to wipe it away, however. She didn't want to see what she had become just yet. She didn't want to see the lonely and alone woman she was fearful of seeing. She set the dryer back on the counter and decided to let her hair dry naturally.

As she turned, she kicked at the pile of clothing that was still lying on the floor. Crouching down, Sydney gathered the bundle in her arms. Vaughn had gotten such a kick out of seeing her in her Eurotrash clubbing ensemble. He had seen her as exotic (such as in Denpasar) and workmanlike (the Vatican) and of course, in bright red Bozo hair, but her latest disguise happened to tickle him for some reason (Sydney was the sure the mesh and the leather bra had _something _to do with it). He had been the one to ask her if she would put together his own outfit, so that he wouldn't look totally out of place when they appeared together at the club. She had been the one to suggest the long leather duster, which went so completely against type that she almost giggled when she remembered the utterly skeptical look he had given her.

"That's not really my style, you know." Vaughn said doubtfully.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that." She said with a straight face. "But I think you can pull it off."

"I don't know, Syd." He still looked unsure.

"Oh, come on, Vaughn." She said coaxingly. "Wear the coat and we'll mousse up your hair and glue a little stud earring--"

"An earring!" He blurted out in an alarmed manner.

She had laughed out loud then. "Vaughn, trust me, you will look so incredibly hot that you'll have to beat the girls off with a stick."

Vaughn appeared thoughtful then and he gave her an impish look. "If you were one of the girls in the club, would you notice me?" His face was so guileless, she couldn't tell if he was being serious or if he was just playing with her.

"Definitely." Sydney replied truthfully and she was very much afraid she blushed when she did so. Vaughn looked satisfied and let her do her bidding.

Her eyes threatened to spill over again and she hurriedly thrust the clothes into the clothes hamper and walked back into the bedroom. Her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the door to the armoire. Inside were a multitude of outfits--jeans, tops, sweaters, dresses, undergarments--and all, strangely enough, in her size. How on earth would her mother--_Irina_--know her dress size? Had she been followed at the mall without knowing it? _Um, excuse me, could you tell me what size jeans that girl who just left here bought? My daughter is exactly her size_. Just the thought of someone doing that creeped her out.

Knowing that Irina had picked out an entire wardrobe for her with the thought that Sydney would someday have the opportunity to wear even a stitch of it unsettled her stomach and she closed the armoire door with a firm push. Maybe she could just lounge around in her bathrobe all day. It wasn't as if she wanted to impress anybody, after all. _No, she wouldn't even get the chance to impress him anymore_.

Sydney drifted over to the window. She pulled aside the curtains to find iron bars on the outside of the window frame. Her mouth quirked. Obviously, Irina didn't trust her well enough not to jump.

She was surprised to see that the house was situated high on a mountaintop. It overlooked a lush green valley below, the fields neatly partitioned into rectangular blocks, a small house sitting on each parcel of farmland. If she strained her eyesight, she could just make out a city skyline in the distance. Was that Taipei? Who knew? Truth was, she could be thousands of miles away from Taipei and her father and Will (…_and Vaughn_) and they wouldn't know where in the world she was.

Sydney pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window and closed her eyes. Had she ever felt so alone? She remembered feeling this way after her mother's memorial service. The mourners had left the house a long time ago and her father had gone off on his own to brood. A distant relative of her father's--an aunt, maybe--had been chosen for the task of staying with Sydney until a nanny could be hired. Sydney had never even known the woman existed until they met two days before, so she certainly wouldn't go to a stranger for comfort. Instead, she had gone up to her room, closed the door and curled up on her bed to cry and wail that her mother was gone and never coming back.

_Never coming back_…she simply couldn't work herself around the idea that she would never see Vaughn again. He was her rock, her steady hand, her guiding light. She didn't know if she could exist in a world where he wasn't a part of it.

Grief tightened its hold over her heart. Where was it written that she was always destined to lose the men she loved? It had started way before Danny, she realized, when she lost a huge part of her father on the day her mother disappeared and was presumed dead. He never treated her in the same way after her mother "died" and she knew it was because when he looked at her, he always saw Laura. 

Then came Noah, whom she had loved and lost and then lost again because she had been naïve enough to place her trust with a black-hearted, cold-blooded assassin and he had turned on her. And her sweet Danny, who had never done anything wrong except leave a phone message on her answering machine, an innocent action that would ultimately seal his fate.

And now Michael Vaughn. Her body shuddered as the scene played over and over in her mind. The crushing force of all that water slamming him against the door. Her frantic banging on the glass as she desperately tried to save him. And then nothing.

Sydney let out a little sob without realizing it and the tears started coming as if they would never stop. She was crying for his mother, who would surely be grief-stricken to lose both her husband and her son before their time. She was crying for his lost future and the woman he would never marry and the children he would never have. She was crying because she had loved him and had not known it until it was too late. 

Eventually the tears dried up because she had no more left to give and she was left with a blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. Sydney looked out the window towards the city so far away. She wondered if they had found his body yet. If they had, what would they do with him? Throw him into the river? Leave him outside of the morgue as an anonymous dead man? The thought of him being buried under a nameless headstone horrified her and she knew she had to do right by Vaughn. She could do this one last thing for him to honor his memory and in doing so, she hoped somehow he would know that he had been loved by her.

As much as it would pain her to do so, Sydney knew she had to go to Irina and beg her to ship Vaughn's body back home to his mother. If Irina would do that for her, then Sydney would do just about anything to thank her. Unfortunately, she knew what Irina would demand in return for her humanitarian gesture towards Vaughn and once Sydney signed her life over to her mother, she knew she could kiss her old life goodbye.  

But she didn't care. If it meant Vaughn would have a proper burial amongst his family and friends and co-workers, then she could deal with anything. Of course, she would miss Will and Francie like crazy. And Dixon, too, even though they'd left things on a strained note. She wondered what kind of story her father would dream up that would make her disappearance sound even halfway believable. She wasn't sure anyone could be that good a storyteller, but if anyone could, she knew it would be Jack

Of course, her father's tenacity was the stuff of legend and she knew he wouldn't give up on her short of seeing her lifeless body laid out on a slab. So she knew he was working on a plan to find her and so she just had to hold on until he did. She could stand being in her mother's company as long as she kept up the hope that her father was somewhere out there looking for her.

Sydney knew she didn't have a lot of time to waste. For all she knew, they already had Vaughn somewhere and she had to act quickly before they did something unspeakably wrong to him. She went over to the bedroom door and began to pound on it, yelling for someone to let her out.

A few moments later, she heard the key turn in the lock and she stepped back from the door. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw who was standing in the doorway.

"_You_?"

_To be continued_…(if you think I should! Please review and let me know!)


	2. Blood Relations

**Author's Note**: I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for the great response to my first chapter.  You all left such positive feedback that it really inspired me to get this next chapter out as soon as I could and I hope it lives up to your expectations.  Chapter 3 is currently underway and we'll just have to see how soon I can get it done.  Hope you enjoy!

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The man Sydney knew as Mr. Sark stepped into the room, a smug smile on his face as their eyes met, and then he closed the door behind him.

"Hello, Ms. Bristow." He said pleasantly. "Or may I call you Sydney? You're going to be here for quite awhile and there's no point in our being so formal with one another."

She groaned impatiently. "Oh, my God, why on earth would she send _you_ up here? I care even less for you than I do her."

"Well, you're not exactly one of my favorite people, either." He retorted, even though he had no basis for disliking Sydney as they had never really been properly introduced. He just said it because he was annoyed by her hurtful display of conduct towards Irina.

"Look, I don't have the time to sit and chat with you!" Sydney said irritably. "I need to talk to Irina. You have to let me out of here!"

"Oh, so is this the part where I'm supposed to bow down like some lowly paean and cater meekly to the wishes of the newly crowned princess of the kingdom?" Sark raised a scornful eyebrow. "From what I understand, you wanted nothing to do with your mother before."

"I've seen the light, all right?" She said flippantly. "Now are you going to let me out of here?"

"No." He said simply, sitting down in the armchair and crossing his legs. "I'm here to talk to you, so neither of us is going anywhere."  
  


Sydney glared at him, but it was obvious from his relaxed posture that he wasn't going to be budged. "Fine, talk, but I don't know what you think we have to discuss." Her manner was clearly hostile towards him. Maybe if she could bully him along, the quicker it would be over.

"Irina wanted me to talk to you." Sark began. "About your options."

"My options?" She repeated. "As far as I can see, I have only one."

"And that would be?"

"To keep as far away from her as I possibly can."

"Ah, but Sydney, have you really thought it through?" Sark questioned her. "Irina is a very powerful woman and it could be very beneficial for you if you were to join our operation."

Sydney let out a short, mocking laugh. "Is that why you're here? To explain about the choices I can make for my health plan? To tell me about your company stock options?" She retorted sarcastically.

"Very amusing." Sark commented without a smile. "But cracking jokes will only delay you in your quest to see Irina."

Sydney clenched her teeth together. "Okay, okay, let's hear how Irina's baby-faced henchman is going to try to make me turn my back on everything I believe in." She said with a sneer.

Sark gave her a smile she would grow to hate. "Thank you for acknowledging my relative youth, Sydney. It does my heart good when someone realizes all that I've accomplished in such a short amount of time."

"Really? Do cold-blooded killers feel a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day?" Sydney asked, a wide-eyed innocent. "Do you actually say to yourself, 'Great little execution I pulled off the other day.' or 'I am so good at what I do. Killing people is really my forté.'" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is that something to be proud of?"

Sark's eyes grew cold. "Don't be so holier than thou with me, Sydney. You're no innocent rose yourself."

She glared at him. "Is insulting me your way of wooing me over to the Dark Side?"

"No, but for some reason, you make it very easy for me to needle you."

Sydney threw him a deadly look. "I've got a thick skin. Don't even _think_ you've hit my jugular yet." 

"Irina always said you had a way with words." Sark mused. "She's always telling me how brilliant you were as a child--"

"And why is she discussing me with you?" Sydney interrupted.

"Because Irina thought I should know all about her clever, wonderfully gifted daughter." Sark's words were tinged with derision. "If you spend any time at all with Irina, you soon find out that one of her favorite subjects is you."

It angered Sydney to hear him say that. She didn't want Irina to brag about her as if she were a prized pig from the county fair. She had no right to be a proud mother where Sydney was concerned. Irina had had nothing to do with the way she'd turned out.

"But why would she want _you _to know about me? Because we're going to be _working_ together?" She spat out disdainfully. 

"Would that be so terrible?" Sark inquired blandly. "Irina is a brilliant, dynamic, resourceful woman who--"

"Oh, God, spare me the lovefest, will you?" Sydney cut him off in mid-idol worship. "Why is it that every man who meets her falls under her spell? You, Khasinau, McKenas Cole. Even my father."

Sark gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. "She is a beautiful, charming woman, Sydney, and people can't help but be drawn to her." He said by way of explanation. "You favor her a great deal, you know."

"Don't compare me to her." She said tightly.

Sark's brow knitted as he gazed at her and then his forehead smoothed as he realized what had been picking at his brain for some time now. "I can't believe I didn't notice it in Denpasar." He said incredulously. "You were the mysterious woman behind the veil."

Sydney remained impassive. She didn't see the point in acknowledging whether he was correct or not.

"It's the eyes, you see." Sark explained. "They're Irina's eyes and they should have tipped me off."

Sydney still wasn't speaking, so Sark continued. "That was a strange bit of circumstances as I recall. I was captured by an agent who, for some unfathomable reason or another, left me to the mercy of the SD-6 operatives." Sark watched as Sydney struggled not to react to his topic of conversation. "Was he CIA?"

_Vaughn_. Just the mention of him was almost enough to make her start bawling again, but she would sooner die than break down in front of Sark.  

"Well, he must have been since I was taken into SD-6 custody." Sark answered his own question when she wouldn't. "I've asked myself a hundred times why that agent would abandon such a valuable commodity as myself? Would you happen to know the answer to that one, Sydney?" She felt as if Sark was taunting her.

"This conversation is pointless." She said as a reply. She would not rise to his bait. 

"Oh, now, Sydney, don't be so cold." Sark pouted at her, letting the matter drop for now. "I really was telling you the truth before. Irina wants us to get to know one another."

"Why? You are of no interest to me and your being here only serves to remind me of my predicament." She said witheringly.

"Well, isn't that what little brothers were put on this earth to do?" Sark casually let his bombshell drop with the ease of one who had done so many times before. "I believe our mission in life is to tease and torment our big sisters unmercifully, until you either yell at us to leave you alone or you threaten us with bodily harm if we fail to do so." He cackled gleefully.

Sydney felt as if she had been punched in the stomach and her legs gave away beneath her. Luckily, she had been standing next to the bed at the time. "What did you just say?" She croaked out.

A coolly detached smile spread across Sark's face. "I believe you heard what I said."

"I don't believe it." She growled.

"It's not my problem what you believe." Sark said carelessly.

She gave him a studied look. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two." He watched his older sister do the mental calculations in her head. "Yes, if you're trying to figure out the math, Mother was pregnant when she faked her death. I was born seven months after she disappeared."

Sydney struggled to keep from gagging. Hearing him call her "Mother" seemed to make it all too real. "Where were you born?"

"Naturally, Mother returned to the Soviet Union upon extraction from her mission." Sark informed her. "That's where I was born."

"And what about your accent? It's not Russian." She was quick to jump on any flaw in his story.

"Boarding schools." Sark replied. "In England and then Ireland for a time. Hence the accent."

"So she didn't raise you?"

"It would have been impossible for her to do so, not with the life she led."

"Did you know what she was doing? Who she was becoming?" Sydney pressed him.

"That didn't matter to me." Sark shook his head. "To me, she was just my mother and I loved her unconditionally."

"So she spent time with you when you were growing up." Sydney felt an irrational flare of envy at the thought of Sark being the one with whom Irina had chosen to stay.

"Of course. When I wasn't in school, she would take me on trips all over the world. Madrid, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Christchurch, Hong Kong." Sark shot her a grin. "Heck, we even spent one whole month in Atlanta, Georgia." He mimicked for her a perfect good ole' boy Southern drawl. "When I was a young child, I wasn't aware at the time who she was or what she was doing, but as I grew older and I realized all that she had accomplished, I felt very proud of her."

Sydney felt sickened. "You're proud that your mother is the head of an international crime syndicate?"

"And so should you be." He said, mild disapproval in his tone as if he couldn't understand _why _she was so dead-set against joining their mother in partnership. "How many women do you think are savvy and brilliant enough to achieve something like that?"

"The bigger question is why would they want to at the expense of everything else?" She countered, but he had no reply. "What about your name? Where does it come from? Why would you have the last name of a man who isn't your father?"

"Sark is not actually my surname." He corrected her. "To be technical about it, it's an acronym of my given name, which is Sergei Aleksandr Radimir Konstantin Derevko." Sark recited with a regal air, his Russian roots coming through in his speech even though he hadn't lived there full-time since he was a boy. 

Sydney raised an eyebrow at the wordiness of Sark's full name. "Why so many?" She asked curiously.  
  


Sark gave a shrug. "I know Aleksandr is for my _babushka_. Her name was Aleksandrina, as you have just recently learned. The rest of them I don't know about." He shook his head. "You'd have to ask Mother for her own reasons, but I think she was trying to make up for the fact that I couldn't use my father's name."

"Why not?" Sydney asked. "Did she not know who he was?" She didn't know what made her say it, but her smart remark was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"How dare you say such a thing!" Sark's face hardened and his blue eyes turned positively glacial. "What do you think? That our mother was a whore?"

Sydney broke his gaze and looked away. No, she didn't think that; at least, not consciously. When she was a child, she had always thought her parents had a wonderful and loving marriage. But then to find out it had all been a sham shook Sydney to her core. If her mother would do something as drastic as enter into a marriage with a man for the sole purpose of using him to further her own gains, then who knew what she was capable of?

Sark smiled tauntingly. "Have I struck a nerve, Sydney? Perhaps you are questioning your own paternity?"

Her head whipped up. "Jack Bristow is my father." She growled at him menacingly.

"Unfortunately, you only have the word of a woman you despise." He goaded her.

"Why are you acting as if I don't have any reason to blame her for this situation?" Sydney said heatedly. "I didn't do anything to her except love her. _She_ was the one who abandoned _me_!"

"Boo hoo, now you're telling me that Mummy suffered, too." Her words were caustic. "Do you think that makes me feel sorry enough for her that I'm going to welcome her back into my life with open arms? You don't know what it was like after she left us. You don't know what it did to my father!" Sydney said bitterly.

Sark looked bored. "Your father is of no concern to me."

Sydney stared at him for a long moment. Could he truly be so utterly heartless? "How did she turn you so completely against him?"

"Mother did not turn me against him." Sark met her gaze evenly. "I have no feelings at all towards your father."

Sydney frowned. "And why do you keep calling him, 'your father'? He's your father, too, even if you don't choose to acknowledge it."

Sark's expressionless countenance suddenly broke into an arrogant smirk, which alternately infuriated her and chilled her to the bone. "Poor little ignorant sister." He shook his head sadly.

She gave him an angry look for treating her so condescendingly. "Please enlighten me." She said coldly.

"There is no need for you to be so outraged on your father's behalf, Sydney." Sark explained patiently. "I'm not rejecting him because of Mother's influence."

"I'm rejecting him because Jack Bristow is not my father."

_To be continued_…

P.S. Don't give up just yet, S/V shippers! Our favorite CIA agent **will** be making an appearance very soon, but it might not be in the way you expect!  Thanks for reading and please review!


	3. Things Aren't Always As They Appear

Even though Sydney was wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, the room suddenly felt very cold. "What did you say?" Her words came out in a hoarse whisper.

"Jack Bristow is not my father." Sark repeated for her in a slow cadence.

Sydney started to do a slow burn. "Then she did sleep around!" She threw the accusation back in his face.

Sark jumped up to confront her. "Watch what you say, Sydney." He said warningly. "I don't tolerate anyone insulting my mother."

"It's not an insult. It's a statement of fact and you're living proof of that." Her eyes flashed as she stood her ground.

"Irina did _not_ sleep around." He insisted, backing off a bit but not much. 

"Her husband is not the father of her child." Sydney said succinctly. "Therefore, she is a wh--"

Sark was up in her face again before she knew what was going on. He had his hand raised as if to strike her cheek. "Don't say it." He snarled at her.

"If you so much as lay a finger on me, you will regret it, I promise you that." Her voice was dangerously quiet. Sydney Bristow was never one to back down, especially to an opponent she could beat with one hand tied behind her back. 

Sark stared at her a few moments longer and then his hand slowly returned to his side. He knew Mother would not appreciate it if he lost his temper with Sydney and besides, he had other ways of making his sister squirm.

"I apologize." He said crisply. "I am just naturally over-protective of Mother and sometimes I react without thinking."

Sydney said nothing, so he went on. "Now where were we?" He pondered. "Ah, yes, my paternity."

"Yes, you were trying to convince me that cheating on one's husband does not constitute sleeping around." Sydney's mouth quirked.

"There was only one other man." Sark informed her after a long pause. "She did not display her wares on the street corner when your father was out of town." He said indignantly.

Cheating was cheating as far as Sydney was concerned, but she didn't press it. "So did she tell you his name?"

"I've always known who my father was." Sark nodded with a dramatic pause. "His name is Arvin Sloane." He grinned evilly when he saw how floored Sydney was.

How many more bombshells could she take in one day? Sydney felt as if her head was about to explode. It had taken every ounce of strength she had left in her body just to come to grips with the fact that she had lost the love of her life in a tragic accident. Now she had to deal with a mother-come-back-from-the-dead, a brother she'd never even known existed and on top of that, her sworn enemy was the father of said brother? God, would the rain on her parade never stop?

"Arvin Sloane is your father." Sydney let out a short, almost hysterical laugh. Should she have expected anything less? Of course not, for the Fates controlling her life had one very sick sense of humor. The thought of her mother and Sloane…it made Sydney's skin crawl to think of Irina letting Sloane touch her and she quickly pushed the picture out of her mind before it became too graphic.

"So she tells me." He said smoothly.

"Did he know she was pregnant with his child?" Could that explain why Sloane always acted like a surrogate father towards her? _Oh, God, what if their affair had started long before Sark's conception_? _What if--_

Sark's voice interrupted her thoughts. "She said she never told him."

"You know, Sloane knew Irina didn't drown in that river." Sydney said urgently. "If he knew about you--"

"I don't believe he does." Sark shook his head. "At least, he didn't acknowledge it when I was a reluctant guest of your SD-6 a little while ago."

Even though she felt nothing but disdain for Sark, she had enough empathy within her to realize what a monumental event that must have been for him. "That was the first time you came face to face with your father." Sydney uttered softly.

He nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "I had always pictured him as a sort of larger-than-life character, but in reality, he looks like an ordinary man."

"You don't know him." She said quietly. "He's hardly ordinary."

"Well, no matter." Sark seemed to brush away all thoughts of his father as easily as he might brush the crumbs from his suit. "We are supposed to be discussing other things."

"Are we going to go back to _her _again?" Sydney said wearily.

"She only wants you to listen to what she has to say without launching back a sarcastic retort every five seconds." Sark said plaintively.

"I am not going to be a docile little puppy dog who will follow her blindly to the ends of the earth." Sydney stated haughtily. "That's what she has you for."

Sark sighed. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" He gave her a long look. "All right then, Sydney, if I have to resort to a bribe, I will."

"A bribe?" She gave a sarcastic snort. "What do you have that I could possibly want?"

"Even though you refuse to acknowledge it, I know you were the woman in Denpasar." Sark studied her face carefully. "Therefore, I know you are acquainted with that man, the agent who briefly had me in custody."

"Why do you keep bringing him up?" She asked crossly. She did not want to talk about Vaughn, especially with Sark.

He ignored her question and came back with one of his own. "Would you be interested to know that he's here?"

Sydney's head jerked up. "You have him?" She couldn't keep the urgency out of her voice. She tried not to picture where they were keeping Vaughn's lifeless body, but she wouldn't have put it past any of them to be disrespectful.

Sark raised an eyebrow, realizing he had just exposed Sydney's vulnerable spot. "He was found at the warehouse." He informed her. "It was not a…pleasant discovery." The look on his face was clearly one of distaste.

But she didn't care about appearances. All she cared about was that she would have the chance to see him again. One last time.

"I want to see him." She said imperiously.

"Sydney, you are in no position to demand such favors." Sark replied, a pitying look on his face.

Her eyes narrowed. "You came here to convince me that I should give Irina a chance to say her piece. You let me see him and I will agree to listen to her."

Sark looked thoughtful. "You attach a lot of importance to this man." He observed.

She ignored his jibe. "That is the deal, Sark. You can tell Mummy you accomplished your mission and maybe she'll give you a gold star for being such a good little boy."

He gave her a genuinely confused look. "I don't know what that means. What is a 'gold star'?"

Sydney flushed, a long-forgotten memory suddenly creeping its way back into her consciousness. "She taught summer school one year at the local elementary school near our house. I remember my father saying that it was beneath her because her knowledge base was on a university level, not grade school." Her eyes took on a faraway haze as she reminisced.

"But she told him she was a teacher first and foremost and it didn't matter whom she taught just as long as they learned something from her."

"I remember sitting with her at the dining table as she graded her papers and I'd watch as she would write something encouraging at the top of the page. Then she'd hand it to me and I would place a little gold sticker next to her words." Sydney met Sark's eyes solemnly. "It signified a job well done."

For once, the perpetual smirk on Sark's face was absent and he was seemingly at a loss for words. "Well, if you'll get dressed, I'll go tell Mother you're willing to talk to her now." His tone was oddly stiff and formal.

"And afterwards, you take me to see--" She stopped short, unsure of what to call Vaughn so as not to raise Sark's suspicions. "You'll take me to see my partner."

"Very well." He nodded. "I will tell Mother what we have agreed upon and after your talk, I will take you to your…partner." With his slight pause, he let Sydney know she hadn't fooled him.

"Fine." Sydney strode over to the armoire. Sark watched as she started rummaging through a few outfits. 

 "I believe Mother is rather partial to that little white frock." He suggested as she surveyed each garment.

"She was the one who chose these clothes for me?" Sydney looked over her shoulder at him.

"Yes, Mummy's picking out your outfits again just as she used to do when you were a child." Sark cooed sarcastically at her, their brief détente a distant memory.

Sydney spun around to face him. "Don't you forget that I'm all grown-up now and I have no qualms about hurting you if you go back on your word, brother or not!"

Sark's lips curled into an amused smile. "You have my word as your devoted brother, Sydney." He said in an overly exaggerated manner.

Sydney snorted. "For all that's worth!" She said disparagingly and Sark stifled a chuckle until he was outside in the corridor. His older sister could be quite amusing.

He had always known of her existence and had often wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. He had grown up as an only child and therefore, was obviously always the center of attention.

But now he was suddenly having to face life with an older and possibly more favored sister, a person who might steal away the preferential treatment from their mother that he had been used to having his entire life. He wasn't quite sure what Irina had in mind for Sydney, but it would bear watching very closely.

Sark strolled downstairs to the library. He walked in without knocking and caught his mother dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. He frowned. Irina Derevko was not an overly emotional woman, at least not that he had ever seen. Sydney's rejection must have hurt her deeply.

"Mother, break out your gold stars!" Sark announced ceremoniously, pretending not to notice as Irina tucked the handkerchief away in her pocket.

"What are you talking about, Sergei?" Irina was the only person who called him by his given name. She sniffled and then put on a bright smile for her son.

"Never mind, it was just something Sydney told me."

"You've spoken with her?" She looked expectant.

"Yes, and she has agreed to talk to you."

Irina looked surprised and pleased. "How on earth did you manage to convince her?"

"It was easy." Sark said boastfully. "I simply offered her something she wanted."

Irina raised a questioning eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

"She wants to see the man we found in the warehouse."

"The one we found after the flood waters receded? He was with her?" Irina absorbed this new bit of information with a pensive look on her face. "The man was searched, but we found no identification on him."

"No, you probably wouldn't have." Sark shook his head. "Sydney wouldn't confirm it for me, but I believe he is CIA. He is the same man who captured me in Denpasar, but he doesn't work for SD-6 because they commandeered me after he left me alone."

Irina looked thoughtful. "He must mean a great deal to her." She looked at Sark. "Did you tell her in what condition we found him?"

"She didn't seem to care." He shrugged carelessly. "All she wanted was to see him, so I agreed. I made no promises in regard to his fitness and well-being."

"Sydney will be in for a rude awakening when she sees him." She mused. "Perhaps we should warn her…"

Some evil streak in Sark's character made him say what he said next. "Mother, I'm afraid you're wasting your concern on Sydney. She has shown no regard for the pain you've been going through all these years and she made it pretty clear to me that she has no intention of joining us."

"She just needs time, Sergei." 

Sark shook his head balefully. She was so willing to make excuses for Sydney. He abruptly changed the subject. "Mother, there's something else Sydney and I discussed." He declared. "I told her who I am."

Irina looked wary. "You told her you're her brother?"

"Yes," Sark affirmed. "Naturally, she was quite shocked."

"What else?" Irina could just imagine all of the choice words Sydney would have for her after finding out just how deeply her betrayal of Jack had been.

"I'm not quite sure if she believed me." Sark replied. "You'll probably have to convince her."

"Did you also tell her about your father?"

"I had to, Mother." His expression was regretful. Sark played it as if he had had no other choice and his mother didn't comprehend how satisfying it had been for him to send Sydney reeling once again. "Sydney was under the misguided impression that Jack Bristow was my father. I had to set her straight."

Irina closed her eyes with a chagrined look on her face. "Good Lord, she probably hates me more than ever now!" She covered her face with her hands.

Sark frowned, not liking what his sister's presence was doing to his mother. Sydney was making her weak and that did not sit well with him. He strode over to the desk and pushed a button on the intercom. "Will someone please go upstairs and bring Ms. Bristow down to the library?" He ordered, the language of his native country flowing flawlessly from his lips. After he disconnected, he went over to Irina.

"Mother, you must get hold of yourself." Sark put a comforting arm around the older woman. "You must present a strong, capable front to Sydney. You will earn her respect much quicker that way."

"Sergei, you don't realize what it is to long for something until your heart aches for it only to have it reject you the moment it sees you." Irina said unhappily.

"Mother, are you sure this is what you want?" Sark questioned her. "If having Sydney here upsets you so, we can get rid of her by any means possible…"

"Sergei, there will be no talk of that!" Irina suddenly rose up before him. "She is your sister, for God's sake!" Her eyes flashed at her son and he knew there would be no crossing her.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Sydney didn't wait for a response and simply walked in to find her mother and…brother in a seemingly tension-filled stance.

"I-I'm here to talk." She said uncertainly.

"I will leave the two of you alone." Sark excused himself from the situation. "When you are ready to see your partner, please ring for me on the intercom." He said to Sydney before leaving the library.

Irina pasted a smile on her face. "You're wearing the dress I bought you." She commented.

Sydney looked down at herself. She had chosen the "white frock" Sark had recommended, a simple white sundress with little ties at the shoulders. It was the kind of dress you might wear to a lazy afternoon picnic or to a party on a hot summer night and it fit her perfectly, which was no great surprise to her considering Irina's obsessive attention to detail.

"I didn't have much choice since my own clothes are…really not my own clothes." Sydney finished awkwardly.

"And I am glad to see that you did not dye your beautiful hair that particularly lurid shade of blue."

"All part of the costume." Sydney shrugged, perching herself gingerly on the edge of one of the wine-colored wing chairs.

"You have a very chameleon-like quality, Sydney, and I mean that as a compliment." Irina said approvingly. "You are able to take on a persona and inhabit it like a second skin. That's what makes you such an extraordinary agent. No one ever suspects you to be anything more than what you appear."

Sydney didn't want to listen to her mother shower compliments on her. Not when Vaughn was waiting for her on the other side of this conversation. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Sydney said briskly, but not disrespectfully. "Tell me why I'm here."

"I want you to join my organization, Sydney." Irina replied. "I want us to work together the way I always planned for it to be."

"You want me to work for you." Sydney said slowly. She had known the offer was coming, but it still left a bad taste in her mouth. 

"Not _for_." Irina shook her head. "_With_. There's a difference."

_Semantics_. "And what if I refuse?" She kept her eyes trained on the older woman. "Am I going to be eliminated because I know too much?"

Irina's face hardened. "No matter what you think of me, Sydney, you are still my daughter and I could never bring myself to hurt you." She turned away for a moment so that Sydney wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes.

"No, you'd have one of your flunkies do the job for you." Sydney said under her breath, too low for Irina to make out the words.

"However, that being said, you know too much for me to let you go." Irina turned to face her again, her calm and collected mask back in its place. "I'm not ready to give up Khasinau as my front for The Man just yet."

"Are you telling me I'm to be kept here as a prisoner?" Sydney was incredulous. Was this woman who had given birth to her really that cruel?

"It is your choice how you will spend your time with me, Sydney." Irina said dispassionately. "You can either have every freedom it is within my power to give you or you will be locked in your room without privilege."

"That's hardly a choice." Sydney said bitterly.

"Then you should have no trouble in deciding what to do." Irina's tone was arrogant.

Sydney pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out what Irina could do with her oh-so-generous offer. She had to keep on her good side, at least until they had discussed what to do about Vaughn. "If you keep me here, what are you going to tell Dad?" She struggled to keep her voice even.

Irina looked surprised by her question. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, please do." Sydney did not wish to beg, but she would if she had to. "You don't know what it would do to him if I disappeared without a trace."

"I am quite astonished at how protective you've become of your father, Sydney." Irina commented lightly. "You and Jack were never very close when you were a child. I remember it was always you and I ganging up on him whenever we wanted to get our way." She tried to remind Sydney of happier times.

"And I remember that he would always give in to you because he wanted to make you happy." Sydney said sadly.

"He was too sentimental for his own good." Irina sniffed, the tone of her voice making it clear that she considered it his weakness. Sydney glared at her, but said nothing.

Irina sensed some hostility emanating from Sydney and hastened to abate it. "Nevertheless, I am pleased that your relationship with your father is progressing quite nicely these days. I know that wasn't always the case after I…left."  She finished awkwardly. No matter how much Irina wanted to forget that she had abandoned her daughter as a child, somehow she knew it would always be a point of contention between them.

"We were working things out." Sydney gave her mother an imploring look. "Please, he never did anything to hurt you. You thought he was suspicious of you, but he never turned you in."

"Don't you think you at least owe him the courtesy as one parent to another of letting him know his daughter isn't dead in some drainage ditch somewhere in Taipei?"

Irina's face remained implacable. "I will think about it, Sydney."

Sydney wanted to scream. Did the woman have no feelings whatsoever? "I won't work for you if you leave him hanging like that." Sydney said darkly. "You already did it to him once. After the accident, he still had hopes that somehow you had survived because they never found your body. Don't do that to him again with me." She said warningly.

"I said I would think about it, Sydney." Irina said frostily. "Now then, do you have an answer for me?"

"I--you-you can't expect me to answer you right away." Sydney said, flustered. "I need time to think."

Irina briefly considered her request. "Very well. Tonight at dinner, you will give me your answer." She said in a no-nonsense tone.

"Why are you rushing me?"

"The world doesn't stop because you have a crisis, Sydney. There is still a lot of work to be done and I see no point in dragging this out." Irina replied tersely. "I want you with me, but I will not beg you. I believe you already know your answer, but I will let you have some time to think about it to be sure it is what you really want."

"Fine." Sydney stood up quickly and experienced a little light-headedness. Nothing to eat and lack of sleep was bound to make a person a bit unsteady on her feet.

Irina gave her a concerned look. "You haven't eaten all day, Sydney. Do you want me to have the cook fix you something?"

"No, I'm not hungry." She shook her head. "Will you call Sark and tell him I want to go see my partner?"

"If you will eat something after you see him."

Sydney nodded in acquiescence. Irina crossed over to the desk and buzzed for Sark to fetch Sydney.

A few minutes later, Sark, Sydney and two armed guards were walking outside into the late afternoon sunshine. She took the opportunity to look over the grounds. A large rectangular swimming pool dominated the back of the house, with lush tropical gardens flanking it on either side. Sark and Sydney took off down a stone pathway that took them towards a small bungalow situated quite a bit away from the main house. The cottage was surrounded by a number of shade trees and it was much cooler here as the overgrown vegetation blocked the sun's rays from beating down on their heads. As they approached, Sydney could see another guard outside the front door.

"Is that--is that where he is?" She asked tentatively.

"Well, we didn't know what to do with him and we couldn't put him in the main house." Sark wrinkled his nose at that revolting thought.

Sydney couldn't exactly blame him. She had come in contact with recently dead bodies before and it wasn't a pleasant experience for the senses.

Two steps led up to the front door. Sark prepared to go in ahead of her when she grabbed his arm in a rather bold gesture.

"Can I please see him alone?" She asked.

Sark raised an eyebrow. "As long as you don't try anything, Sydney." He warned her. "The guards will be waiting outside to take you back to the house."

"Thank you." She said gratefully.

Sark left for the main house and Sydney walked up the steps. She stopped outside the front door, wondering if she was strong enough to face what she would find. She took a deep breath as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

The door was unlocked. _Why not_? She thought wildly. _It's not as if they had to worry about him escaping_.

Sydney stood for a moment in the open doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. The room was cool and comfortable, a light breeze gently lifting the gauzy white curtains that hung over the open-air windows.

She gazed at her surroundings. It looked to be a guest cottage of some sort. There was a small sitting area with a writing desk made of glass and chrome and a straight-backed chair against one wall and a beige linen loveseat against another. A pile of magazines in various foreign languages sat atop a glass coffee table. She opened the door to her right and discovered a bathroom, spotless and unused. Then she forced herself to look at the bed. 

His body was there, a light coverlet pulled up to his chest. The much-admired leather duster was gone. She swore softly to herself, hoping that whoever had stolen it would get run over by a bus for his act of thievery.

Sydney forced her feet to move towards the bed, her eyes filling with tears at each step. _His hair is still damp_, her mind screamed and she remembered how it had felt to run her fingers through his hair as she moussed it up for their club-hopping gig.   

Sydney stopped at the side of the bed and knelt down on the floor beside him. "Oh, Michael, please forgive me! You have to know that the last thing I wanted was for you to be hurt." She closed her eyes as she squeezed out a few tears.

"I didn't know until it was too late how much you meant to me and now you'll never know." Through eyes blurred by tears, she gazed at his finely chiseled face, his features in complete repose. "How does that saying go, 'You should never put off tomorrow what you can do today'? I suppose this is what I get for putting it off."

Sydney sniffled. "You were always there for me, Michael, whenever I needed you. In your own way, you were telling me that I could count on you for anything and I knew what that meant even though part of me didn't want to acknowledge it." She shot him a slightly guilty look. "I hope you're not embarrassed that I knew how you felt about me. I wish I could have been as honest with you."

"I guess I was just plain scared to tell you." She confessed, a bit sheepishly. "I know you always thought I was brave and fearless, but that was when I was doing things that didn't matter to me. Whenever I went out on a mission, it was never _me_ beating up the bad guys or stealing computer codes. That was Sydney Bristow, Super Spy." She said self-deprecatingly.

"But the Sydney Bristow who just wanted to be an ordinary woman was a coward. She was afraid to be happy because when she is, something always ruins it." Sydney's voice cracked. "You, of all people, know I'm not exactly batting 1.000 when it comes to holding on to the men in my life. I thought if I never said anything to you, you would at least be safe from the curse that seems to follow every man who ever loved me." She gave a mirthless laugh. "I guess my perfect record is still intact, though. Another one bites the dust."

"But I shouldn't have been afraid. Not of you." Her voice was thick with tears. "Even if we were ultimately doomed, I should have told you. I owed you that much after everything you did for me. At least we would have been able to have had that time together and it would have been so precious to me, although God knows how we would have managed to pull it off." She said ruefully.

Sydney dropped her gaze, her eyes focused on the tight weave of the blanket because it hurt too much to look at him. "Do you know when we first met that it didn't even register with me how extremely attractive you were?" She let out an involuntary giggle. "I must have been blind back then, I don't know."

"But then one day, you smiled at me and you said I looked pretty." Sydney could remember feeling that blush all the way down to her toes. "You gave me a smile that went straight to my heart and it was as if I was seeing you for the first time. That's when it hit me, Michael." Sydney gave him a sad smile.

"If I could have one wish in my sorry lifetime, it would be for you to know that I love you, Michael. I love you and I always will." Sydney closed her eyes and then gently placed a kiss on his lips.

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Just wanted to include a little P.S. to everyone (and especially Corinne, who I always seem to single out because your reviews always bring up specific plot points, which I love) that I do realize the same story elements have been worked and re-worked many times before, but hopefully I am putting my own spin on it.  I chose to take things in this direction with Sydney & Sark as sibs and Sloane & Sark as father and son just because I think J.J. is leaning that way in the show.  The potential for conflict is just too great to pass up.  Can't you just imagine the confrontations between Syd & Sark or Jack & Sloane with Irina in the middle of it all?  I think it would be awesome.

Anyway, thanks for reading my little ramblings and please let me know what you think of the latest chapter!


	4. Love Begins

Sydney yelped. Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened as she backed away from the bed. _His lips were still warm_!

She watched in utter disbelief as his eyelids flickered. It was like watching Sleeping Beauty, only their roles had been reversed. "Syd?" He murmured weakly.

Vaughn felt as if he were drifting on a cloud. His body was weightless and there was some kind of ethereal being dressed all in white floating by his side. Was he in Heaven? It had to be if Sydney was here, looking like the loveliest angel he had ever seen.

He saw her lips moving. She was saying something to him, but he couldn't quite make out the words. He struggled to rid himself of the haze that was shrouding him and that was when he heard her voice, sweet and clear as a bell. _She was telling him she loved him_. He wanted to reach out to her at that moment, but his brain felt fuzzy and it wasn't sending the proper messages to his limbs in order to get them to move.

But it didn't matter. The angel was coming towards him. She opened her mouth to speak and he expected to hear the most beautiful sound his ears had ever heard.

"Oh, my God!" Sydney gasped, rushing back to his side. "Vaughn?" She cried out, her eyes filling with tears.

And then she called him "Vaughn" and he knew this wasn't Heaven. He groaned in disappointment.

A moan escaped his lips and Sydney looked alarmed. "What's the matter? Are you in pain?" She said frantically.

He stared up at her with those beautiful green eyes.  "You…called…me…Michael…just…a…minute…ago." He spoke with great effort. "Now…back…to…Vaughn."

Sydney flushed. "You weren't supposed to hear that." She said embarrassedly.

"Does a guy…have to be…dead…for you…to call him…by his first…name?" Was Vaughn actually teasing her?

"No!" She burst out and then blushed again. "No, I'm sorry, you're right. It's just that I thought you were…" She couldn't bring herself to say the dreaded word.

"…dead." Vaughn supplied for her.

"Right." Sydney said, subdued.

"So you only make…heartfelt confessions…to dead men?" He asked, that teasing note in his voice again. "Something about…dead men tell no tales and all that?"

"Michael, please!" She wailed self-consciously, not realizing until a few seconds later that she'd done it _again_. The unfamiliar name felt strange coming from her lips and she frowned to herself.

Vaughn noticed her look and wondered what she was thinking. "Something…wrong?"

Sydney gave him a distressed look as she sat down on the bed. "I just realized that I don't know what to call you."

"I don't know what you mean." He shook his head quizzically. He struggled to sit up and she helped prop him up against the headboard.

"Well, is Michael the name you go by? What does your mother call you? What do your friends call you?" She gave a helpless shrug. "That's something I should know and I'm embarrassed that I don't."

"Well, it's not as if the subject's ever come up before, Syd." Vaughn chuckled, his voice a little stronger now. "I'm not going to hold it against you that you don't know all my nicknames."

"So you have a nickname." She prompted.

He hesitated a moment before speaking. "My dad used to call me Mikey." He finally admitted, turning red when he saw the grin spreading on Sydney's face. "Hey, don't laugh! Are you forgetting I was a little kid when he died?"  
  
"I'm not laughing!" Sydney protested even as a giggle escaped her lips. "I'm smiling because it's cute. I can see you as a Mikey."

Vaughn rolled his eyes at her. Guys didn't like to be thought of as cute. Manly and masculine were fine, but cute was just too…well, cute. "My mother calls me Michael. Sometimes it's Michel if we're speaking in French." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Any comment from the peanut gallery?"

"No." She replied solemnly, a grin teasing at the corners of her mouth.

"Weiss calls me Mike." Vaughn went on. "Or crazy when he's particularly pissed at me." He thought back to the last time he had seen his partner. It had been in the conference room at CIA Headquarters and the tension between them could have been cut with a knife.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" Sydney asked softly as Vaughn suddenly went silent for a few moments.

"Eric and I--we sort of had a disagreement before I left." He divulged reluctantly. "We didn't leave things on a very high note between us."

"I see." Sydney gave him a perceptive look. "It didn't have to do with me, did it?"

Vaughn's mouth quirked to one side. "I had confided in him what I thought you were going to do in Taipei and he ratted me out to Devlin and Haladki."

"I'm sorry." She said soberly, feeling inadequate.

"I trusted him and he let me down." He gave her a brief grimace. "One of the last things he said to me was 'Trust is a tricky thing.'" He let out a heavy sigh.

"You can't really blame him, Michael." Sydney said quietly. "If he knows something, he's bound by his obligations as a government agent to tell what he knows. It's not his job to cover for me and I'm sorry if I made it yours."

Vaughn took Sydney's hand and grasped it between his own. "You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do, Sydney. I told you that I didn't want to be the same kind of company man my father was. If you're doing something I believe in, then it doesn't matter to me if they don't."

She gave him a grateful look. "In case I didn't tell you before, I'm glad you're here with me." She colored slightly. "I mean, I'm not glad we're in this situation, but I am glad that I'm not alone."

"Speaking of which, are you going to tell me what exactly is going on here?" Vaughn asked her. "Where are we?"

Sydney hesitated. She had just gotten him back and she didn't want to spoil everything by talking about her mother, a topic that was sure to rile him up. After his trying ordeal, he needed a little time to recover. There would be time enough later for them to discuss their situation. Luckily, they would have all the time in the world.

"I'll tell you everything that's happened, but not yet." Sydney said slowly. "First we have to settle the whole name debate."

Vaughn gave her a strange look. "Syd, if there's something you're afraid to tell me--"

"No, I'm not afraid!" She said hastily. "I could never be afraid to tell you anything." Her face softened. "I just don't want to let the real world intrude upon us just yet. I thought I had lost you forever. Sue me if I want to keep you to myself just a little while longer." She gave him a shy little smile that melted his heart.

Vaughn smiled at her. "How can I resist that?" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "What were we talking about again?" He asked, planting another light kiss on her knuckle. He was certainly not being shy about his intentions and it was definitely making an impression on her.

"What I should call you." Sydney breathed heavily as the nerves in her hand started tingling.

"You…(_kiss_)…can…(_kiss_)…call…(_kiss_)…me…(_kiss_)…whatever…(_kiss_)…you…(_kiss_)…like (_nibble_!)." Vaughn looked up at her from beneath his lashes to see what kind of reaction he was getting from Sydney and was rather pleased when he saw the blissed-out expression on her face. "Except for Mickey. I hate Mickey." He added with a shudder.

Sydney tried to stifle a giggle. "Who calls you Mickey?"

"My Aunt Trish."

"And the reason being?"

Vaughn gave her a discomfited look. "Syd, don't make me tell the story." He begged.

"There's a story?" She squealed delightedly. "Oh, Michael, now I have to hear it!" 

Vaughn let out an unenthusiastic groan. "Well, if I tell you, it goes no further than this room." He said warningly. "My whole family knows the story because it gets passed around every time there's a family reunion, but you are the only person outside of my family who will know what I am about to tell you."

"I'm honored." Sydney grinned facetiously.

"Okay." Vaughn took a deep breath. He couldn't believe he was about to tell her one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. "I was five years old and one day, my parents told me they were going to take me to Disneyland after school let out for the summer. Their first mistake was telling me a month in advance. From that day forward, I would go around the house asking my parents if today was the day we were going to see Mickey Mouse. I would tell strangers on the street or at the supermarket that I was going to see Mickey Mouse." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "To put it plainly, I was obsessed." The grin on Sydney's face broadened.

"Well, my Aunt Trish had come to visit a few days before the big trip to Disneyland, so she was going to go with us. In the car driving over, I kept up my constant chatter about going to meet Mickey Mouse and after a whole month of that, my folks were probably going crazy."

"I know it would drive me crazy." Sydney agreed.

"We got there before the park opened and my dad bought the tickets and when we went through the turnstiles, who do you think is standing about 15 feet away from us?" Vaughn asked her rhetorically. "There was Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck and one of the chipmunks, Chip or Dale, I don't know which." He shrugged.

"I think the way you can tell them apart is that one of them has a red nose and one has a black nose." Sydney interjected with a straight face.

Vaughn threw her a blank look. "I don't remember what color nose he had." He deadpanned and Sydney hid her smile by covering her mouth with her hand. 

"Anyway, my mother pointed them out to me and she started leading me over to them while my dad was taking out his camera to capture this golden moment for posterity." Vaughn said exaggeratedly. "It was supposed to be this Great Family Moment, but when I got face to face with Mickey Mouse, I froze." He gave her a pained look.

"Oh, no!" Sydney dissolved into peals of laughter. "Michael, how could you?"

"I couldn't help it." He shook his head. "I mean, I was just this dumb little kid and all of a sudden, I had this very large creature towering over me and he was holding out his arms as if he was going to grab me and I freaked." Vaughn was turning a becoming shade of pink. "I turned around and I ran crying straight into my mother's arms."

"Michael, I think…he was…only going…to _hug_ you!" Sydney was gasping for breath as she was laughing so hard at the mental images of a sobbing Mikey Vaughn being afraid of _Mickey Mouse_, for crying out loud!

"I know that now, but I didn't know it at the time." His face broke out into a bashful grin. He knew it was a funny story even if it was at his expense. "I made them take me out of the park and I said I wanted to go home." 

"You barely made it past the front gate and you wanted to go home?" Sydney pretended to be aghast. "Oh, if I was your mother--do you know how much it costs to go to Disneyland these days?"

"Well, it wasn't so much back then." He replied. "Luckily, they thought to get our hands stamped before we went out. My folks took me back to the car and they calmed me down enough to where I would go back in only if we completely avoided the area where Mickey was hanging out."

Sydney giggled. "I think you are the only person in the world who is afraid of Mickey Mouse." She said teasingly.

"Hey, let's get one thing straight." Vaughn held up his hand. "I'm not afraid of him anymore."

"Well, I think your future children will thank you for that." Sydney quipped. "I'd hate to think of them being deprived out of a trip to Disneyland just because their father is afraid of a happy, smiling mouse who only has eight fingers."

Vaughn pretended to be indignant. "Sydney, when we take our kids, I will pr--" Their eyes suddenly met at his Freudian slip and a flush crept into both of their faces. "Uh, um…what I meant to say…is that if _we_ ever went to Disneyland, I would prove it to you…that I'm no longer…afraid." He finished lamely, almost wishing he were submerged underwater again than to feel this kind of mortification for his slip-up.

"I got it." Sydney said softly, seeing no reason to embarrass him any further. "So that's where the Mickey name comes in, right?"

He nodded, his face still feeling warm. "My Aunt Trish still calls me that to this day and even though I've asked her not to do it, she doesn't pay any attention to me."

"Oh, my poor Mickey!" Sydney crooned and he pretended to threaten her with a bed pillow while she ducked. "I'm sorry." She looked contrite. "You will never hear that name come out of my mouth in reference to you." Sydney said solemnly.

"And don't you dare tell Weiss!" Vaughn warned her. "If he ever found out, my life would become a never-ending hell of covert taunts and sly references to a certain mouse who shall forever remain nameless from this moment on." He said, mock threateningly.

"I promise you my lips are sealed." Sydney caught Vaughn looking at her lips at precisely that moment and the tension between them ratcheted up a few notches. "You know, I think that's the first time you've ever told me a story from your childhood." She looked thoughtful, hoping to diffuse the situation a bit.

"Yeah, I think it might be." Vaughn agreed.  
  


Sydney gave him an embarrassed look. "We talk about me entirely too much, don't we?"

"Syd, don't be embarrassed." Vaughn said tenderly. "You happen to be one of my favorite topics of conversation."

He started rambling without thinking. "In fact, sometimes, you're the only thing--" He suddenly stopped, his face turning red. _Why am I suddenly shooting off my mouth like some blithering idiot every five seconds_? Had Khasinau laced that water he'd been floating in for those long terrifying minutes with some kind of truth serum? Whether or not that was the case, he was certainly _acting_ as if he'd been given a strong dose of the stuff because he was being entirely too forthcoming in regard to his feelings for Sydney. Vaughn was usually so careful to keep his emotions in check whenever they were together, precisely so that they didn't have these humiliatingly awkward moments, but for some reason, their present circumstances were playing havoc with his self-control.

"I'm the only thing what?" She prodded him, eager to hear what he had to say.

The look on Sydney's beautiful face captivated him and his desire to play it cool suddenly went out the window. "Sometimes you're the only thing I feel like talking about." Vaughn finished softly. She felt a ridiculous sense of pleasure bubble up inside her.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. There was so much to say about so many things, but both of them were hesitant about bringing up the subject that was foremost in their heads and in their hearts. 

Vaughn decided to bite the bullet. "Sydney, I don't know if I was dreaming before, but I think I heard you talking to me." He began tentatively. "I heard your voice and I think that was what brought me back."

Sydney shot him a nervous glance. "What was I saying to you?"

"I heard you say you loved me." Vaughn said hesitantly.

She averted his gaze. "I told you before that you weren't supposed to hear that."

"Are you taking it back?" He asked seriously.

She turned a pair of troubled eyes on him. "Michael, you know what happens to the people I love. They either end up dead or they disappear for years or in Will's case, they get abducted by lunatic sociopaths." She said dryly.

Vaughn gave her a sympathetic look. "Syd, I know you like to blame yourself for everything bad that happens in your world, but what happened to Danny and Noah and Will was not all your fault."

"How can you say that?" She cried out. "_I_ am the reason Danny was murdered and Noah--well, Noah and I were the only two people in that room when he died and his death _wasn't_ from natural causes."

"Sydney, Danny was a good guy, but he didn't have the knowledge of whom he was dealing with when he left that message on your answering machine." He said gently. "And Noah was a brutal assassin who masqueraded as your knight in shining armor and thought his charm would be enough to whisk you away from your dangerous, complicated life." He turned sour upon speaking of Noah, who would always be a sore spot with him even though the man was dead and gone.

"And Will?"

"Him?" Vaughn wanted to make a disparaging remark about his rival-who-really-wasn't, but he took the high road. "Will is just too damn inquisitive for his own good."

"Michael, you're trying to take the blame off me and attach it to their shortcomings." She protested. "Yes, you're right about everything. Their actions played a role in their own demises, but I still should have warned Danny more strenuously and I should have been more suspicious of Noah and I should have been more forceful with Will in telling him to back off the story."

"But I didn't do any of those things and now they're all dead or God knows where in Will's case!" Sydney burst out. "Don't you see that I don't want anything like that to happen to you?" She said pleadingly.

"But, Syd, the thing you're not taking into consideration is that I'm not Danny and I'm not Noah and I'm certainly not Will." Vaughn allowed himself a little jab at the other man currently in Sydney's life. "I am fully aware of what SD-6 is capable of, I would never underestimate your tenacity or your desire to take down the bad guys and I'm not a nosy reporter who can't seem to mind his own business." He played it straight even though Sydney rolled her eyes at him.

"Michael," Sydney gave him a chastising look. "There's no need to put Will down. You've never even officially met the man."

_But I see him through your eyes and it makes me nervous to see how much you care for him_. "Forget I mentioned him." Vaughn brushed the subject of Will to the wayside. "The point I'm trying to make is that you don't have to be afraid for me. I know it doesn't always look like it, but I can take care of myself." He tried to coax a smile out of her beautiful face.

Sydney gazed at him uncertainly. Why was she so reluctant to tell him how she felt about him? This was the second chance she had wished for and now she was getting cold feet? Maybe Michael was right that she could only speak from her heart if she was sure it wouldn't get broken.

But now was not the time to be coy. If the Fates had deigned to smile on her for just this once in her hard-luck life, she should embrace it for all it was worth. Maybe only then would she find the true happiness she had always wanted.

Sydney paused for a deep breath before she spoke again. "Michael, what you heard me say was the truth." She met his gaze with a steady one of her own. "I love you." Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. "I've loved you for a long time, I think, and it scares me to death that I almost didn't get the chance to tell you."

Vaughn felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. After months of wondering and hoping, he finally had the answer to the question that had occupied most of his waking thoughts (and some of his non-waking ones as well). _Could Sydney Bristow fall in love with me_? The answer appeared to be a resounding yes.

His face crinkled into a relieved smile and he traced a finger down her cheek. "It's okay, Syd. You've finally said it and you don't have to have any fears or regrets about anything."

"But, Michael, what about you?" She blurted out, an anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Vaughn suddenly laughed out loud. "Sydney, I've been wearing my heart on my sleeve for months now! How can you even question it?"

"Maybe because you haven't said it yet?" She pointed out with an arched eyebrow. "Now who's got issues?"

Vaughn pretended to be insulted. "Sydney Bristow, I love you." He said emphatically. "I think I might have loved you from the very first moment you stepped into my office with that hideous red fright wig and one side of your face swollen up like a balloon." His expression changed to one of tenderness. "You were definitely a sight to behold."

"Oh, God, is that the story we're going to have to tell when everyone asks how we first met?" Sydney covered her face in embarrassment.

"Hey, it might even become as famous as my Mickey Mouse tale of horror." He quipped and she laughed. He smiled at the sound and she suddenly became self-conscious when she felt him studying her.

"Why so quiet all of a sudden?" Vaughn asked.

"It's just something that occurred to me." She gave him a shy look. "Michael, do you realize that we are probably the only two people on earth who have fallen in love with each other and we've never even exchanged a single kiss?" A blush rose into her cheeks.

"Well, you can remedy that situation very easily, you know." He said suggestively.

"Oh, yeah?" A faint smile played about her lips. "How?" She asked innocently.

"Come here and I'll show you." Sydney leaned forward and Vaughn laid a gentle hand on the side of her face as their lips met for the first time. He was still feeling the aftereffects from his impromptu underwater Houdini impression, but the healing powers from Sydney's lips were invigorating him. He gathered her to him hungrily, months of desire and longing suddenly making their way to the surface of his thoughts. He felt the tip of her tongue against his and it drove him crazy.

Their kiss was tentative at first as if they were both feeling each other out. Sydney's mind was awhirl as she drank him in deeply. She felt the stubble of his unshaven face against her cheek and even though it scratched her, she felt thankful because it was tangible proof that he was still alive and breathing and in her arms. The musk of his skin inflamed her senses and she almost felt as if she were the one drowning as his lips sought hers out again and again.

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Hi, I just wanted to leave you with a note about my Vaughn characterization in this chapter and probably future chapters. I know from a show perspective, we've never seen him be very jokey or playful with Sydney, so I know I have no real basis for writing him that way. But since no one knows exactly how he will behave with her once he says those three little words (and you know us shippers are hoping he will someday!), this is just my way of making him how I would want him to be with Sydney.  Only J.J. knows for sure.

Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!


	5. Choice of the Heart

After several lingering moments of leisurely exploration, they both drew apart at the same time. Sydney let out a contented sigh. "That was definitely a keeper of a first kiss." She murmured against his lips.

"Well, there's plenty more where that came from." Vaughn said with a smile.

"Are you sure you're strong enough after your grueling ordeal?" She teased.

"I think I'll be able to muster up something." He grinned and then it quickly faded as he realized their budding romance should not have been the thought foremost in his mind.

"Michael, what is it?" Sydney asked anxiously.

He gave her an affectionate look. "Syd, don't get me wrong. I am thoroughly enjoying every minute of our time together, but we both know this isn't some cozy little love nest in the Swiss Alps." Vaughn grasped her hand, hoping she wouldn't become offended. "You need to tell me what's going on now."

"I guess I should." She sighed. "I know I was just putting off the inevitable, but I wanted to feel what it was like to be normal for a little while."

"I hate to break it to you, Sydney, but you will never be normal as long as you do what you do." Vaughn said regretfully.

"Did you have to remind me?" She made a face at him and then she became serious. "Okay, first off, what do you remember?"

"You mean about the warehouse?" 

Sydney nodded silently.

"I remember seeing what I thought was a tidal wave coming down a hallway." Vaughn said slowly. "I remember you running towards me and then you were past me and I still hadn't moved. I remember gunning towards the door and me not making it before it closed." He closed his eyes and grimaced as the memories literally came flooding back into his consciousness. You would think getting body-slammed against the door by that towering wall of water would have been the worst part of it all, but for him, it was seeing and hearing the roar of that great torrent of water as it rushed towards him, knowing that he was simply a helpless non-entity who unfortunately stood in its path.  

Sydney's eyes filled with tears as she remembered the desperation and despair with which she had tried to break the glass in order to afford him a few more precious minutes of life. Then she remembered the sheer hopelessness she had felt when he disappeared from her sight. 

"Syd?" He was alarmed at seeing the tears in her eyes. "Syd, please don't cry!"

"I tried to break the glass, Michael! I really did!" She cried out with a sob.

Vaughn reached up to brush away a loose strand of hair that had fallen across Sydney's face. "Shhh, Syd, I know. I saw you." He said comfortingly, bringing her head down to rest on his shoulder. "I know you tried." He brushed his lips against her forehead.

"I don't remember what happened afterwards. I must have passed out from the lack of oxygen and I guess whoever found me realized I was still alive and then they brought me here." He looked around the room. "Wherever this is."

"We're on an estate. I haven't had a chance to get the complete layout yet, but I have been in the main house." She informed him. "There are armed guards on the premises, so I'm guessing the security is pretty tight."

"The house is situated on a mountaintop, so it won't be easy to flag down a passing car if we ever manage to make it out to the main road and I think we're about an hour away from the city, so it would definitely be too far to walk." She went on. "You can just barely make out the city skyline from my upstairs window."

"You have a room in the main house?" Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "Why am I stuck out here in the guest cottage?"

"Well, at first I thought it was because they didn't want a dead body in the house," Sydney said delicately. "But now I realize that they didn't know who you were, so they didn't want a potential wolf inside the henhouse."

He gave her a stunned look. "Sydney, are you saying that these people know who _you_ are? Do you know them?" 

Sydney hesitated a moment before speaking. It wasn't going to be easy to tell him about Irina. "Michael, I don't know if you saw it before you got swept away, but I was attacked while I was trying to break the glass. They managed to sideswipe me and I wasn't able to fight back because you had just disappeared and I was shocked and horrified and I wasn't paying attention." She swallowed back the lump in her throat. "They knocked me out and when I woke up, I was in a room, tied to a chair. That's when things got really bizarre."

"Khasinau came in and he was holding a plate of food." She told him. "For some reason, he was trying to get me to eat, but I refused. I told him I had questions for him and that's when he stood up and said I needed to talk to his boss."

Vaughn shot her a look of confusion. "Wait, I thought he was the boss."

"That's what I said." Sydney replied. "Turns out he's just the front man."

"For whom? Is there someone else we don't know about involved in this mess?"  
  


"There is someone else, but unfortunately, we do know who it is." Sydney's brow creased. "Michael, I know this is going to be hard for you to accept, but my mother, Irina Derevko, is The Man." She bit her lip uncertainly.

"Your mother?" Vaughn echoed uncomprehendingly. "She's really here? Alive?"

"Alive and apparently thriving." Sydney gave him a pained look. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this. I know you hate her because of what she did to your father…" Her voice trailed off. There was nothing more to say.

"I won't deny that." He eyed her concernedly. "What about you? How are _you_ taking all this?"

"Michael, please don't think that you have to comfort me." She said sternly. "This hits you just as hard as it does me."

He nodded, a slight tremble in his lips. "I never thought I would ever get to meet my father's killer." He said quietly. "I know you thought she was still alive, but I never--it never crossed my mind that she could actually pay for what she did to him."

Vaughn gave Sydney a grave look. "Sydney, I know she's your mother, but you have no idea how much I want to take her down for what she did to me and my family." There was a hard, bitter edge to his voice.

"Michael, I don't consider that woman my mother." Sydney shook her head vehemently. "My mother was Laura Bristow and to me, she died in a car accident twenty-two years ago. That woman, Irina, I have no feelings towards her." She said stoically. "And I want her to pay just as much as you do."

Vaughn took her hand and squeezed it. He knew Sydney well enough to know that in spite of the fact that she talked a good game, there was probably a small part of her who was still the little girl who adored her mother. She felt hurt and betrayed, but there would always be something in her that wanted her mother's love.

But she was pushing that aside--at least for now--and in its place was her unwavering support for him and a fierce determination to see justice rendered. He loved her for that and for so much more.

"So I'm assuming she wants something from you?" Vaughn prompted. "That's why you're here?"

Sydney nodded. "We talked earlier and it didn't go well. She was going on and on about how she's been waiting almost thirty years for this grand plan of hers to come to fruition." Her jaw hardened. "Michael, she told me that ever since she disappeared, her main goals in life was to be reunited with me and for me to join forces with her against SD-6 and the CIA."  

"Well, I hope you told her to go to hell when she made her offer." Vaughn said darkly. Sydney shot him a guilty look, which he caught immediately.

"Syd?" He gave her a penetrating glance. "You did tell Irina to shove it, didn't you?"

"Not exactly." She admitted warily, preparing herself for his inevitable outburst.

"Sydney!" Vaughn looked at her as if she was crazy. "Don't you dare tell me you're thinking of turning traitor to your country!"

"No, Michael, that isn't something I would ever want to do!" Sydney declared with an impassioned tone in her voice. "At least, not willingly."

"Is she holding a gun to your head?" He demanded.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking, she is!" Sydney burst out. "Michael, she's giving me no choice! She's already told me in no uncertain terms that if I refuse her offer, I'm to be kept as a prisoner because she doesn't want it to get out to the world that Khasinau is not The Man." She gave him a beseeching look. "And if she would do that to her own daughter, you know you're going to suffer an even worse fate."

"So you're doing this to protect me?" Vaughn frowned. "You think I'd really be a dead man this time?"

"I don't believe she would hesitate for one moment to get rid of you, especially if she knew how much it would hurt me." Sydney said firmly.

Vaughn had a reflective look on his face. "I find that sort of ironic, don't you?" He remarked. "The same person who killed my father would be responsible for my death as well."

"No, I'm not going to let that happen!" Sydney erupted. "Michael, that's why I think joining up with her is the only way to go."

"I'll make a bargain with her that she has to send you home before our agreement takes effect." She went on. "Once I know you're safe, she'll own me." She said with an air of resignation in her voice.

Vaughn gave her a frustrated look. "Sydney, I thought we just went through all this that I don't want you to worry about me! Do you think I want you to sacrifice yourself and everything you believe in just to save my life?"

"I would do all of that and more just to save your life!" She cried out. "That's part of what love is. Sometimes you have to put the welfare of the person you love before your own."

"Love is not martyring yourself!" His voice rose significantly. "How will I be able to stand it knowing you're halfway around the world from me working for someone you despise just so I can be at home in my crummy little condo eating chili dogs and watching the hockey game in my underwear?"

In the midst of their heated disagreement, Sydney suddenly burst out laughing. "That's a very vivid mental picture you've just put in my head, Agent Vaughn!" She looked at him, hoping to coax out a smile, but he was still in his loud-and-argumentative mode. "Would you smile if I told you I was having some _extremely_ naughty thoughts right now about what I could do to take you away from that hockey game?" Sydney gave him a very persuasive come-hither look and she could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Sydney, this is no time for joking around." Vaughn said soberly. He was calmer now and he treated her to a small grin to show that she had gotten him to cool down. "We're not talking about pretending to be one of the bad guys for a few months. We're talking about the rest of your life!"

"Michael, it's no different from the situation I'm currently in now." She said mildly. "Not that I think I have to remind you, but I already _am_ working for someone I despise." Sydney pointed out. "I would just be replacing one tyrannical boss with another."

"Sydney, I won't let you do it!" Vaughn said, his voice becoming adamant again.

"Well, it's not your choice to make, is it?" She said, feeling a bit huffy in spite of the fact that she had wanted to tone things down. "You can't tell me what to do, Michael." Sydney looked stubborn. "I thought you knew that about me."

Vaughn's shoulders suddenly slumped and he let out a sigh. "I absolutely do know that about you." He looked defeated. "You go ahead and tell your mother you'll work for her." His tone was listless.

Sydney stared at him. Had his near-death experience taken more out of him than she realized? Where was his fight? "You're giving in?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I know it's pointless to argue with you when you dig in your heels."

Sydney felt an ache in her heart. "Michael, you know this is not something I _want_ to do." Her voice grew thick with tears. "This is something I _have_ to do."

"Fine, you do what you have to do and I'll do what I have to do." His manner was brisk and businesslike.

She didn't like the way he said that. "And what do you have to do?"

Vaughn looked her straight in the eye. "I have to stay here with you." He said matter-of-factly.

"Michael!" Sydney looked chagrined. "I don't want you to get caught up in my family power struggle!"

"Sydney," Vaughn gave her a tender look. "In case you haven't noticed, I already am caught up in it." He said gently. "I know everything you know and it would not be in Irina's best interests to let me go. You said it yourself that she doesn't want to give up Khasinau as her front man and she would be doing that if she released me."

"You could give her your word that you wouldn't say anything." Sydney suggested, all the while knowing he wouldn't make such a promise.

"My status as an agent for the United States government precludes me from making any covert deals with wanted criminals." He said succinctly, as if reciting from the CIA Agent Handbook.

Her heart swelled up with love for him. "Michael, are you sure? This is a huge sacrifice you're making. You're giving up your career and your family and your friends. Am I worth all that?" She gave him a skeptical look.

"Sydney, you are worth every sacrifice I can make if it means that you and I can be together." He stroked her cheek with his finger. "Do you really think I'm going to let you go just when you and I have found each other?" Vaughn gave her a heart-melting smile.

Sydney burrowed herself against his chest, closing her eyes. She loved this man so much and she would thank God everyday that he had been given back to her.

"Were you always this stubborn before?" She asked, her voice muffled.

"Before what?" Vaughn said amusedly.

"Before I realized I was in love with you."

Sydney felt his chuckle come from deep within his chest. "Probably, but I think I hid it from you, so that you would always think you were getting your own way."

"Are you telling me I'm a victim of false advertising?" She lamented in dramatic fashion and then snuggled closer to him. "Oh, well, I guess it's too late now since I couldn't stop loving you if I tried."

They sat like that for a few minutes, Sydney's head resting on his shoulder and Vaughn's arms around her soft, warm body. Despite their present circumstances, he knew there was no place on earth he'd rather be.

Finally, Sydney was ready to talk again. She sat up and Vaughn noticed the old fire back in her eyes. "Okay, then, if you're going to stay, we have to come up with a viable story as to why she should want you around."

"Isn't the fact that you're going to be the one doing the asking enough?" Vaughn quipped at her.

"Are you telling me you want to become a kept man?" Sydney pretended to be aghast. "My little studmuffin I get to come home to after a rough, tough mission in Morocco or Queensland or Timbuktu?" She grinned teasingly at him.

"Hey, I think I could get used to that." Vaughn pretended to consider that arrangement.

"No, Agent Vaughn, if you stay here, you're going to have to earn your keep." She said definitively. "I wonder if Irina would consider letting you be my partner."

"Partners?"

"Sure." Sydney nodded. "I'm going to need one and it has to be somebody I trust."

"Well, we do work well together." He said thoughtfully, warming to the idea. "We'll play up the fact that it would be an ideal situation for us if we stay and work for her because then we would get to be together."

"So you want me to tell her about us?"

"Yes, I think it's absolutely necessary." Vaughn replied. "Maybe it'll speed up the trust issue if she thinks you're willing to talk about your personal life with her."

"Ugh, mother-daughter bonding?" Sydney groaned. "Do you know how much that idea totally repulses me?"

"It's for the greater good, Syd." Vaughn said sympathetically. "The faster she trusts you and me, the sooner she'll send us out together and then hopefully we can make a break for it."

"I suppose you're right." She grimaced. "God, I just hope all that phony kissing-up to her won't turn me into another sycophant like Sark!" At the mention of her…whatever he was, Sydney suddenly remembered she hadn't even had a chance to tell Vaughn her other big news.

"Sark? He's here?"

"Yes, he's here and it appears he has a bigger role in Irina's organization than we originally thought." Sydney said matter-of-factly. "Maybe even over Khasinau."

"I don't get it." Vaughn shook his head. "What is he? 24? 25? How is he so high up on the food chain at such a young age?"

Her mouth quirked. "He's 22, actually, and I think his high standing might have something to do with the fact that Irina is his mother." Sydney was surprised she didn't gag as those words came out of her mouth.

"_She's his what_?" Vaughn was flabbergasted. "Sydney, that means that he's--"

"--my brother, I know." She finished for him, shuddering at the thought.

"Whoa," Vaughn was absolutely floored. "No wonder he's been able to rise so quickly through the ranks."

"Nepotism at its finest." Sydney said sarcastically.

"Do you think it's the truth or do you think they're just trying to mess with your head?"

"It's possible they could be lying to me, but I don't know why they would do it unless they want me so shell-shocked I can't think straight, like you said." She shrugged. "The thing is, he seems to worship the ground she walks on and it just doesn't feel like an act with him." Sydney wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"You know, I used to wish I had a brother or a sister when I was a kid, especially after Irina left us and my dad was away so much of the time. I thought I wouldn't be so lonely if I had someone around who was going through the same thing." She made a face. "I guess I should be careful what I wish for."

Vaughn nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I actually felt the same way after my dad died. My mom focused all of her attentions on me and it got stifling once in awhile. If there had been someone else around, it definitely would have taken off some of the pressure."

Sydney became silent and Vaughn thought she was thinking about her father. "This is going to be real tough on Jack, isn't it?" He took her hand in his, massaging her knuckles with his thumb. "I mean, finding out he's had a son for all these years and never knew it?"

"That's another reason why I hate her!" Sydney suddenly jumped up off the bed, startling Vaughn. "Because of what this is going to do to him!" She went over to the window and leaned against the wall with her back to him. He saw her shoulders heaving as she sobbed and it tore at his heart.

Vaughn stood up on his wobbly legs and walked over to her. "Syd, there's more to this than just the fact that she kept Sark a secret all these years, isn't it?" He said gently, bracing himself by holding on to her shoulders as he turned her around. "What else is there?"

Sydney turned a pair of stormy eyes on Vaughn. "Sark is not my father's son." Her voice was wooden. "He is the product of an affair she had with Arvin Sloane." She suddenly crumpled into his arms.

Vaughn caught her and held Sydney close against him, stroking his hand lightly over her hair. "I can't believe this, Sydney. Your mother and Sloane?"

She pulled back to look at him. "My father once told me that she detested him, but obviously a little thing like loathing doesn't mean squat in the spy game." Her voice was harsh.

"Finding this out just makes me despise her even more!" Sydney spat out. "How could she let him _touch_ her? How could they do that to Emily? Besides the fact that Emily was her friend, I can't believe that someone who is always going on and on about how devoted he is to his wife would do such a thing! It's just a load of crap."

Vaughn looked grim. "They both must have had their reasons, however twisted."

"Twisted is a good word for it." She agreed bitterly. They suddenly heard a loud gong reverberate through the trees. Sydney turned her head to look out the window. The late afternoon had turned into dusk.

"I think that's the dinner bell." She surmised. "Irina told me she wanted my answer by then."

"Do you think I'm invited?" Vaughn asked hopefully. "I'm starving."

Sydney looked at him and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, God, I am such an idiot! You haven't had anything to eat or drink for almost 24 hours! I should have had one of Irina's minions get you something the moment you woke up!" She gave him an apologetic look.

"Well, we were busier with more important topics of conversation." Vaughn smiled lazily, nuzzling against her neck.

"Mmmm," Sydney purred like a cat. "I am sorry, though, Michael." She murmured. "Can I at least get you a drink of water? We've been talking so much and your throat must be dry--" She was suddenly aware that Vaughn had stopped kissing her neck and had pulled back to give her an odd look.

At the same time, Sydney realized what she had just said. "Oh, Michael, I guess even _looking_ at a glass of water isn't very high on your list right now, is it?" She said sheepishly.

"I think I can honestly say I have no desire to ever go to the beach, take a shower, ride a water slide…" Vaughn said matter-of-factly and then he grinned at her to show he was only joking. "Seriously though, Syd, it was definitely a traumatic experience and I will need some time to get over it, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to go all Pigpen from the Peanuts cartoon on you."

She smiled at his joke. "Good, because I kind of like the way you smell after you've just come out of the shower." She said coyly.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "And just how do you know how I smell when I come out of the shower, Ms. Bristow?"

"A couple of times your hair was still wet when we met at the warehouse." She replied with a saucy grin. "I figured you must have just come from the gym."

_How could he have ever thought she never noticed him_? Sydney laughed at the adorable flush reddening his face and then kissed his cheek.

"Michael, I'm going to leave you now to go talk to Irina about what we've decided to do." She told him. "You go clean up a bit and in the meantime, I'll ask if she'll let you move into the main house."

"All right." Vaughn caught her hand just as she turned. "Sydney?" Her fingers felt warm in his hand.

"Yes?" She looked at him expectantly, marveling again that he was here and he was alive.

"I just wanted to tell you again that I love you." He said softly, giving her a little smile.

Her heart nearly melted. "I love you, too, Michael." She murmured, showing off her dimples as she returned his happy grin. "I'll see you in a bit."

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Nothing to say really; I've just gotten used to leaving these at the end of a chapter.   I hope everyone is enjoying the ride so far and if you are, please let me know about it because your feedback is what keeps me going!  Thanks for your time.☺


	6. A Plan Set in Motion

Two of the guards stationed outside of the cottage escorted Sydney back to the house while the other remained to watch over Vaughn. She could smell cooking odors wafting throughout the house once she stepped inside and realized that she was pretty ravenous herself.

But first things first. Sydney came to a stop outside of the library. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the closed door.

"Yes?" She heard Irina call from within.

Sydney inched open the heavy walnut door. "Excuse me, may I come in?" She stuck her head in through the crack.

Irina was sitting at the desk, reminiscing through Sydney's sixth-grade photo album and didn't bother to hide it. "Of course." She stood up from her chair as Sydney came in and closed the door behind her. "You have been to see your comrade?"

"Yes." Sydney replied, wincing inwardly at Irina's obvious attempt to display her Russian origins. "And I have an answer for you."

"I wasn't expecting one until we met for dinner." Her mother said placidly.

"I know, but like you said earlier, there's no point in dragging it out." Sydney paused for dramatic effect. "I've decided to accept your offer. I will stay here and work with you."

Irina's face broke out into a delighted smile. "Oh, Sydney, I am so pleased!" She started towards her daughter but then hung back, realizing that she had to take it slow with Sydney. Her daughter held on to her grudges for dear life and Irina knew it would take some time to break down her defenses to the point where she would accept her mother back into her life.

"I do have one stipulation, however." Sydney went on. "It concerns the man who was with me at the warehouse." She gave her mother an anxious look. "Can I tell you about him? About what he means to me?" Sydney's bottom lip quivered quite convincingly.

Irina tried not to look thrilled that Sydney was willing to share a piece of her life with her. "I will listen to whatever you want to tell me, Sydney." She said, making her voice deliberately neutral.

"Well, the first thing I should do is tell you who he is." She began. "His name is Michael Vaughn and he is with the CIA."  
  
"As Sergei suspected." Irina interjected.

"Yes." Sydney nodded. "He is--I mean, was--my handler."  
  
Her mother gave her a look of surprise. "Your handler? That surprises me, Sydney. I did not think handlers went out into the field with their agents."

"Well, I'd say most of them probably don't." She admitted.

"But Mr. Vaughn is different?" Irina said perceptively.

Sydney's face visibly softened. "He's not like anyone I've ever known before." She said quietly. "He's put himself on the line for me more than once and he's gotten in trouble for it as well."

"Obviously he believes you are worth the hassle." Irina could see the subtle changes in her daughter's demeanor as she spoke about the man. It was clearly evident how she felt about him.

"Yes." Sydney nodded, a smile playing about her lips.

Irina noted the blissfully happy look on Sydney's face and it touched a part of her she had thought was buried too deep to reach. "I think I understand, Sydney."

"Do you?" Sydney gave her mother a questioning look.

"You're in love with him." It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes, I am." Her reply was clear and unwavering.

"And he loves you back?"

She nodded. "That's why I want to ask you for a favor."

Irina was well aware of the lengths to which a person like Sydney would go to save another person's life. Sydney was loyal beyond question and faithful without a doubt and Irina knew she would say or do anything to spare another from certain pain and suffering. But in this instance, Irina sensed that this was not a trick. Sydney was truly speaking from her heart because she deeply loved this man.

"What is it you want?"

"I need to know what you're planning to do with him."

Irina saw no point in denying it. "Sydney, he was a security breach. We deal with intruders in only one way."

"Well, I'm asking you to spare his life." Sydney met her mother's gaze. "For me."

Irina arched one eyebrow. "You are asking me to trust a man I know nothing about?"

"He's no threat to you, Mom." Sydney played it as if the word just slipped out, but it was calculatingly deliberate. "All I ask is that you extend the same offer to him that you did to me."

Her mother gave her a faintly suspicious look. "Why would an agent of the U.S. government want to turn against his own country?"

"You could ask me the same question." She countered.

"You and I have familial ties, Sydney." Irina replied coolly. "This man has no reason to turn traitor."

"Michael's presence here is unofficial and unsanctioned by the CIA." Sydney said quietly. "Once they find out what he's done, his career with them is over. He has nothing to go back to."

"Plus he does not want to leave you." Her mother added unnecessarily.

"No." She admitted. "Mom, I thought Michael had died in the warehouse and that nearly killed me because I thought I would never get the chance to tell him how I felt about him."

"Now we have a second chance and we don't want to waste it." Sydney glanced at her mother to see if she was buying her story. Not that it wasn't the truth, but it would help if Irina felt sorry for the two star-crossed lovers. "We never said anything to each other before about how we felt because we both knew it would be an impossible situation. It was hard enough trying to keep our business meetings a secret, but if we added clandestine romantic trysts into the mix, it just would have been too risky."

"But if we stayed here with you, we could have the life we want." Sydney gave her mother a pleading look. "Michael and I could be together and we wouldn't have to be afraid of the wrong people finding out."  

"So that's your real reason for agreeing to work with me?" Irina felt a modicum of hurt that she had not even been a consideration in Sydney's decision.

"I know that's not what you want to hear, but you can't expect me to welcome you back into my life as if you'd never left." Sydney was careful not to sound accusing or embittered. "A lot of resentment has been built up over the years and it's going to take some time to break down that wall."

"I suppose you're right." Irina conceded. "About your Michael. He has been trained in the field?"

"He doesn't have as much as experience as I do, but we have worked together in the past and he always watches my back." Sydney said truthfully. "You know I can't do everything myself, Mom. There are going to be times when I need a partner and I trust Michael implicitly."

Irina looked thoughtful as she considered Sydney's request. "I would have to talk to Mr. Vaughn before I would allow him to join the organization." She finally decided. "For now, we will let him recover from his experience at the warehouse and then we will take it from there."

Sydney breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mom." She said, feeling something almost akin to warmth for Irina. "Since you are going to let him stay, would you allow him to be moved into the house?"

"I--yes, of course." Irina capitulated with only a slight hesitation. "I will have one of the maids prepare a room."

"I would appreciate that." Sydney smiled. "He's still feeling quite weak and I would like to be nearby to take care of him."

"As you wish, Sydney." Irina said quietly. "Now why don't you go wash for dinner and I will have Mr. Vaughn brought up from the guest cottage, all right?"

"Okay. Thank you." She gave her mother a nod and left the room.

Irina crossed the room over to the phone, but before she could press a button, her son ducked his head in through the open door.

"Mother, I just saw Sydney leaving." Sark stepped into the library. "Has she given you her answer?"

"Yes." She put on a big smile for her son. "Sydney has agreed to join us."

Sark kept his face determinedly bland. He was not happy to hear that news, if only because of how it would affect him. "That's wonderful." He said, putting on what he hoped was a believably enthusiastic smile.

"Yes, it is." Irina said happily. "Sergei, I was just about to call you. I want you to have someone remove the lock from Sydney's bedroom door."

He nodded. "It will be done before she retires for the evening."

Irina smiled approvingly. "Next, I want Sydney's friend to be moved from the guest cottage to the suite at the end of the hall from you."

"What?" Sark said sharply. "I thought we were going to get rid of him."

"No." Irina said firmly. "It turns out that your sister cares a great deal for this man and I will do nothing to jeopardize her happiness."

"So you're letting him move into the house?" Sark gave his mother an incredulous look. "How do you know we can trust him?"

"We don't, so we must let him prove himself." His mother replied. "You know the cottage is not wired for video or sound, Sergei. It is much more advantageous for us that he be allowed every amenity we can offer."

A ghost of a smirk appeared at his lips. "So you don't trust her as much as you appear to, do you?"

"Trust must be earned, Sergei." Irina said bluntly, not rising to his bait. "I will give Sydney and her friend every opportunity to display their allegiance to us, but if betrayal is what is in their hearts, then they will both be dealt with accordingly."

"Including Sydney?"

"Including Sydney."

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note: **You might be noticing that the action is slowing down.  As I said in my new summary line, it won't be easy for Sydney and Vaughn to get away from Irina and what I'm planning for the next few chapters is a mix of drama and romance rather than a quick action-packed escape leading to everyone safe and sound back home.  I hope you stick with me and let me know how I'm doing because your feedback is very important to me!

P.S. to Corinne: Somehow I knew your S/V shipperness would pick out Vaughn in his underwear from Chapter 5! (grin)  Seriously, I hope you don't feel as if you **have** to always mention something specific in your reviews.  I like hearing if something strikes a chord, but I'm not expecting you to take notes! (still grinning)  

And as far as this turning into an epic saga, yeah, it's looking as if I won't make my Season 2 premiere conclusion date.  I just have a lot of ideas and tying it all together takes time.  Oh, well, if everyone is still enjoying it by the end, that'll be enough for me.

See ya later!


	7. Dinner From Hell

Sydney repaired her makeup and combed her hair before going down to the dining room. She didn't know exactly where she was supposed to go and ordinarily, she would have asked one of her armed escorts, but when she opened her bedroom door to head back downstairs, her two bodyguards were nowhere to be seen. Apparently, Irina was sending her a message that she now trusted Sydney. _Well, that's her first mistake_, Sydney thought wryly as she descended the marble staircase.

She was able to follow her nose to her destination and came upon a large, airy room with exposed wooden beams, lots of windows to let in the natural sunlight and a pair of French doors that led out onto the grounds. The formal dining area took up only about one-third of the space, but it was still sizable enough to hold a large rectangular wooden table with seating for twelve, a mahogany sideboard and a matching china cabinet as well as a comfortable amount of room around the table to allow for foot traffic. Tonight there were only four place settings on the table along with four high-backed green brocaded chairs, two on each end and two in the middle, one opposite the other.

The rest of the space was taken up by a game room of sorts. It was a cozy expanse with hardwood parquet flooring topped by a large faded but beautiful Oriental rug. A pool table dominated the middle of the room and it looked as if someone had been in the process of playing a game, judging by the position of the billiard balls scattered about the green felt surface. A cinnamon-colored suede sofa and matching chairs were positioned in front of a huge stone fireplace--currently unlit due to the warm weather--along with a low-riding wooden coffee table. A lovely hand-carved chess set sat at one end of the coffee table, its pieces ready and waiting for two opponents to square off, with an assortment of magazines neatly arranged at the opposite end. Built-in bookshelves flanked the hearth on either side and judging by the full-to-the-bursting-point amount of books on the shelves, Sydney could see that someone living in the house was a voracious reader.

A handsome bar was situated in one corner of the game room and to Sydney's surprise, everyone had already arrived ahead of her and was having a drink before dinner. Sark was behind the bar mixing drinks while her mother supervised. Sydney was delighted to note that Vaughn was also in attendance, having exchanged his all-black clubbing ensemble for a pair of khaki trousers and a collarless long-sleeved white shirt that he wore untucked and open at the neck. His hair stood up in little spikes as if he'd just run a wet hand through it and his eyes were impossibly green. He looked gorgeous and sexy and she felt her heart skip a beat when she saw how his eyes lit up as she came into the room.

Irina looked up just as her daughter appeared in the doorway and she too caught the look that passed between Sydney and Vaughn. She was very eager to observe the two of them interacting with one another, just to be sure that their swift-and-sudden confessions of love were not part of some devious plan they had cooked up just to spare the young man's life. But as Irina watched the handsome (ex?)-CIA agent walk over to greet Sydney, even she could see through her own jaded eyes that it appeared to be the real thing that existed between her daughter and her former handler. Mr.Vaughn was showing all the signs of being head over heels for her daughter and by the way Sydney was blushing, it was obvious she felt the same way.

Sark was also paying close attention to the goings-on, but not for the same reason his mother was. He was already feeling out of sorts because Irina had displaced him at the head of the table, telling him that "Sydney was the guest of honor tonight." _It was already starting_, he noted with a sullen grunt. Now to add insult to injury, he would also have to endure watching the two infatuated lovebirds making eyes at each other all night. His mother was probably already envisioning the beautiful grandchildren (and heirs to the throne) these two would make.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep everyone waiting." Sydney said apologetically.

"It's quite all right, Sydney." Irina smiled at her. "Sergei and Mr. Vaughn just arrived from the guest cottage themselves."

Vaughn came over to kiss her cheek. "You work fast." He murmured in her ear, too low for anyone else to hear.

"And you changed your clothes." She smiled up at him.

"Your brother lent them to me." Vaughn told her with a smirk, letting her know just by the expression on his face that Sark hadn't been too happy about having to share his wardrobe with Sydney's paramour. "Hey, and do you know what I just realized? I lost my chick magnet of a leather coat somewhere." He grumbled with a perfectly straight face.

Sydney let out a little giggle. "That's okay, you don't need it anymore, anyway, sweetheart." She gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder and returned his kiss to her cheek with one of her own.

"Sydney," Irina called out to her. "Would you mind doing the introductions?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry." She looked at her mother and gave a cursory glance to Sark. "Mom, Sark, I would like you to meet Michael Vaughn." She said graciously, turning to Vaughn. "And Michael, this is my mother, Irina Derevko and her…Sark." She finished, making an obvious snub towards her brother.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Michael." Irina extended her hand. Vaughn took it without flinching, hoping his father would understand that he was only doing this to survive.

"You too, Irina. Sydney has told me a lot about you." Vaughn smiled warmly and Sydney could tell Irina was instantly charmed by him. He did have a certain effect on women, although Sydney was sure he didn't even realize it.

"Not all good, I'd venture to say." Sark muttered under his breath, but everyone heard him, anyway, which was what he had intended. He ignored Sydney's glare as he stuck out his hand to Vaughn. "We've already met." He said, a bored expression on his face.

"Have we?" Vaughn asked innocently.

_God, were they _both_ going to pretend it wasn't them in Denpasar_? "Yes, we have. In Denpasar." Sark replied in an overly patient manner. "You were there helping Sydney."

Before Vaughn could answer, Sydney jumped into the conversation. "Sark, I don't know why you keep harping on that. Give it a rest." She wasn't really quite sure why she was busting Sark's chops about Denpasar, but their constant denials seemed to annoy him, so she played along just to irritate him.

"Sydney, would you like a drink before dinner?" Irina asked.

"Oh, no, thank you." She demurred.

"Fine, then let's go in to dinner, shall we?" The four of them headed towards the dining room. "Please sit down." Sark seated Irina at the end of the table as she gestured towards the other chairs.

Sydney started for one of the chairs in the middle of the table, but Sark scooted in front of her, blocking her from pulling out the chair. "No, _you_ are at the head of the table tonight." His tone was smarmy.

"I am?" Sydney picked up from the contemptuous tenor of his voice that Sark had been relocated from his normal place at the table and was undoubtedly seething over it.

"Yes, dear." Her mother nodded.

Sark jerked his chair out rather abruptly and sat down before Vaughn could even pull Sydney's chair out for her. Irina frowned at her son's bad manners. A gentleman always waited until the ladies were seated before taking his own.

The dinner was an extremely awkward affair. The four people sitting around the table were so intertwined by their pasts as well as their futures that any attempt at normal conversation appeared to strangle them. They all knew so much about each other yet they had nothing in common. They couldn't talk about work because they all had been on opposite sides until very recently and it didn't seem quite prudent to be telling "corporate" secrets at the dinner table. Besides which, Vaughn hadn't yet been approved into the inner circle.

Nor could they talk about themselves without being reminded of their troubled family histories and neither Irina nor her children wanted to delve into such a touchy subject on their first night as a reunited "family." They had no friends in common or even casual acquaintances, so Sydney's attempt to tell a funny story about her and Francie and Will fell flat because no one could put a face or a personality to the name.

In the end, they had to resort to the weather (which was hot and muggy), the latest movie they each had seen (Sydney found out Sark had a crush on Nicole Kidman and she thought to herself that she could definitely see him as the obsessed Duke from _Moulin Rouge_) or sports (unfortunately, Sark was a major fan of cricket due to his teenage years in England and Vaughn couldn't relate since a) he'd never even seen a cricket match before and b) it wasn't hockey). 

It also didn't help matters that Sark became progressively more intoxicated throughout the meal. His aperitifs before dinner flowed freely into the wine they had with the rack of lamb and baby peas. After the meal, when they were served coffee and liqueurs, Sark waved off the young serving girl pouring the coffee to concentrate solely on his overly full snifter of cognac. Irina found she had to divide her attentions between shooting disapproving glances at her son while still trying to keep a watchful eye on Sydney and Vaughn.

"You know, you are not a bit like Will Tippin." Sark suddenly commented during one of the (many) lulls in the conversation. He had long since exchanged his snifter of warm cognac for small shot glasses of chilled vodka. 

"I beg your pardon?" Vaughn was a bit startled by Sark's out-of-the-blue remark.

"Will Tippin." Sark repeated crisply. He was not your typical drunk. He didn't slur his words or stumble over his feet. No, when Sark overly imbibed, his senses felt sharper and his brain became more acute. At least, that was his point of view. "You do know who he is, don't you? One of Sydney's _male_ friends?" The insinuation in his tone came across loud and clear and Sydney found herself doing a slow burn.

"I do know who Will Tippin is." Vaughn replied in a calm and composed manner. "He and Sydney have known each other since college."

"Is that all you know about him?" Sark inquired.

"He doesn't come up in our conversations very much." Vaughn admitted. "I know about him what Sydney tells me about him."

"Oh," Sark nodded simply and it appeared that the subject had bored him to the point where the matter would be dropped.

"Michael--" Irina began after a brief moment of silence but Sark immediately cut her off. 

"Did she ever tell you that he was in love with her?" He could feel his sister's eyes boring into his skull, but the vast quantity of liquor in his system was dulling the effects of her laser-like glare.

"Sergei," Irina said his name with a warning note.

"What are you talking about?" Sydney said furiously.

"I was there for a little bit of the time when he was being questioned about The Circumference." He looked around the table, at the three pairs of eyes who were staring back at him in stunned silence. "No need for secrecy about that, is there, since we all know it exists." He slapped a hand to his forehead. "I mean, _existed_, seeing as how Big Sis over there just destroyed months and months of backbreaking work." Sark tipped his head and tossed back one of the vodka shots in a single motion, the iciness of the liquid chilling his insides as it went down.

"Sergei, I think you have had too much to drink." Irina's calm exterior was a far cry from the irritation and annoyance she was feeling inside at her son's out-of-control behavior.

"Maybe just a little too much, Mother." Sark agreed with a little smile, but gave no indication he was about to stop. "Anyway, I heard Mr. Tippin say quite clearly during one of his drug-induced confessions that he was in love with Sydney and that he had been for a long time even before she got engaged to--what was his name again? Denny?"

Sydney flushed, obviously not having a clue as to Will's true feelings for her or to the extent of time with which he had felt this way. Vaughn, however, was rather interested in finding out the details.

"His name was Danny." Vaughn uttered in a controlled voice before Sydney could angrily correct her brother. She took a quick glance at Vaughn. He didn't appear to be overly concerned with Sark's attempt at stirring up trouble, but she could tell he was up to something. She wisely kept her mouth shut and let him speak.

"Oh, so you know all about the dead fiancé?" Sark said callously.

"Yes, I do." Vaughn replied. "It was an extremely difficult time for your sister, so I would appreciate it if you didn't act so cavalierly about it." He spoke softly, but his words carried a big stick. Sydney felt a rush of love for him and even Irina was impressed by his protective attitude towards Sydney.

"Fine." Sark said dourly, backing down. It wasn't that he was intimidated by Vaughn (_No, most certainly not_! He tried to convince himself while wallowing in his drunken haze). He just didn't feel like duking it out with the man over _Sydney_ of all people, someone he didn't give a bloody damn about (Never mind the fact that he was smashed out of his gourd and couldn't have taken a single punch from Vaughn without falling flat on his back, anyway).

"Getting back to Mr. Tippin," Vaughn began again. "You said you drugged him?"

"Among other methods of torture, yes." Sark smiled briefly, downing another shot. Sydney had to clench her fists together to keep from pouncing on him.

"Did he tell you anything?" Vaughn knew the answer to that question, but he asked it, anyway.

"Not about The Circumference, no." The younger man shook his head. "The only juicy tidbits of information we could get out of him were about Sydney, so he was of no use to us."

"Does that mean you let him go?" Sydney finally realized what Vaughn was after. He was trying to find out what had happened to Will for her sake. Her brother made no secret of the fact that he delighted in tormenting his older sister and somehow Vaughn had deduced that Sark would have gleefully withheld the information about Will from her if she had asked him herself. 

But Sark was oblivious to Vaughn's true motives. "We left him off with her father last night." He revealed, his eyelids suddenly feeling heavy.

Sydney breathed a sigh of relief. Will was safe. She shot Vaughn a grateful look and he smiled back at her. It was the least she could do to try to rescue _him_ now.

She suddenly stood up from her chair. "If it's all right with you, Mom, I was thinking that it would be good for Michael if he had a little fresh air and exercise after what he went through. Do you mind if we go for a walk along the grounds?"

"No, dear, go right ahead." Irina shook her head. It would give her some time to talk to Sergei about his disgraceful behavior. "If you go out to the lookout, there is quite a lovely view of the valley."

"I'd advise you to be careful out there when it's dark." Sark piped up. "The retaining wall is quite low and it's a very nasty drop if you happen to go over."

"Your concern is so touching, Sark." Sydney smiled sweetly. "Too bad it's also insincere."

"Sydney, I believe your brother's warning is a valid one." Irina put in, not wanting to show favoritism for one child over another. Sark gave Sydney a smug grin.

"Fine," Sydney didn't want to spar any longer with her brother. "We'll be careful." She grabbed Vaughn's hand and they exited through the French doors into the cool night air.

Vaughn let Sydney lead him down the lighted path towards the lookout point without uttering a word. The moon was out that night so in addition to the dimly lit lanterns that lined the walkway, the light over their heads provided enough brightness for them to at least see each other's faces, if only in shadow. 

Sydney let go of Vaughn's hand when they reached the lookout. She walked over to the edge of the cliff and took a tentative look over the wall, grimacing as she did so. It did look like a painful drop especially if one fell against those sharp, jagged rocks protruding from the side of the mountain.

"Sydney?" Vaughn said her name with a somber note in his voice.

She turned to face him. "Yes, Michael?"

"Swear to me that we will never have to endure another evening like the one through which we just suffered." He suddenly let out a moan that was not unlike that of a wounded animal and staggered towards her as if in sheer agony. Sydney caught him before he collapsed at her feet, laughing as she did so. She managed to keep the two of them upright until they moved to sit beneath a nearby weeping willow tree. Now settled in place, Vaughn placed his arm around her shoulders, loving the sweet smell of her hair as it brushed his cheek.

"It was pretty excruciating, wasn't it?" Sydney buried her face into his shoulder to hide her mortification. "I was so afraid to introduce anything into the conversation because everything seemed either too volatile or too obscure. We barely have anything in common and the things we do have in common, we can't talk about!"

"Yeah, once we skip over your family and my father and our work and their work, what else is there?" Vaughn commented wryly. "We're left with me asking the woman who murdered my father to pass me the goddamned bowl of carrots!"

Sydney burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. "It was truly the most bizarre gathering of people with whom I've ever had the misfortune to dine." She gave him an apologetic smile. "Present company excluded, of course."

"Of course."

"Well, look on the bright side, Michael." Sydney shot him a mischievous look. "We get to do it all over again tomorrow night." She chirped brightly.

Vaughn groaned as if he were carrying a two-hundred pound weight on his back. "Sydney, do we have to?" He whined unbecomingly. "Can't we just say we have a headache or something?"

"I think my mother has this notion that we're going to turn into some big, happy blended family now that we've been reunited." Sydney rolled her eyes. "You know, the kind of family who sits down to dinner every night and shares happy stories of their day with each other." She said dryly.

He snorted. "Yeah, and after we muddle through that exhaustive conversation, what will we find to talk about for the next three hours and fifty-five minutes?"

Sydney giggled. "I believe the highlights of the evening were Sark's monologues on why cricket is better than American football and how Nicole Kidman is much better off without Tom Cruise." She poked fun at her brother.

"Hey, he was dead-on about Nicole Kidman." Vaughn deadpanned.

"Yeah, you're just jealous of Tom because of Penélope." She scoffed.

"I am not!" He protested, pretending to be indignant.

She gave him a sharp look. "I seem to recall you telling me a few months ago that you actually liked that awful movie with Nicolas Cage and the aforementioned Ms. Cruz." Sydney needled him.

"She was good in that movie, Syd."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes.

"Now who's jealous?" Vaughn kidded her.

"Who, me?" Sydney asked, wide-eyed, and they both broke out into grins at the same time.

"You do realize your family could be a Movie-of-the-Week for an entire year, don't you?" Vaughn pointed out to Sydney. "The mother who faked her death, the son no one ever knew about, the estranged daughter and the bitter father." He said dramatically.

"And don't forget the nasty neighbor the wife has an affair with." Sydney added distastefully.

"How could I forget?" Vaughn let out an ironic snort. "And then if we add in my side of the equation, we've got a man whose father was murdered by the mother of the woman he loves."

Sydney gave him a sober look. "It doesn't sound as if there's a happy ending in there."

"Well, no one ever said it would be easy."

"No, if it were easy, it wouldn't be my life." She let out a sigh.

They let the stillness of the night air fill in the gap in their conversation for a few moments. Then Vaughn suddenly spoke. "Sydney, what do you think Sark was trying to pull with all that talk about Will?"

"He probably just wanted to cause friction between us." She made a face. "He seems to take a perverse pleasure in doing that."

"Well, hey, we don't need him to cause friction between us." Vaughn pulled her into his lap. "I can think of a more pleasant way to do that." He grinned at her suggestively.

"I bet you could." She smiled and then couldn't help but glance back at the house with a nervous look.

"Syd, what is it? What are you worried about?"

"Michael, I just don't trust that we can say or do anything anywhere in or near that house," She told him of her fears. "Any plotting we do will have to be outside and preferably where no one else can hear or sneak up on us."

"Okay," He nodded with a serious expression on his face. "Whenever we're inside, no strategizing."

"Thank you." She was grateful he didn't trivialize her worries. "Now the real reason I brought you down here was to fill you on what happened before dinner."

"When you talked to Irina?"

Sydney nodded. "Well, to make it short, I told her I accepted her offer and she seemed pretty happy about it. I also told her about you and how you came to be here with me. She knows you're CIA and that you were my handler."

"So since she knows about my past, does that mean she doesn't trust me?"

"Well, when I asked her if she would let you become my partner, she didn't agree right away." Sydney told him. "She said she had to think about it, but she made it sound as if she would keep an open mind until she talked to you." 

"Was she suspicious that I could be so easily persuaded to turn traitor?"

"Maybe a little, but I did as you suggested and I let her know that it would make me very happy if she would let you stay and let us work together." She replied. "I also told her that you really had nothing to go back to, anyway, since your career with the Agency will be pretty much over once they find out about our little excursion to Taipei."

"Now there's a situation that might not be so far from the truth." Vaughn said grimly. The prospect that he wouldn't have a job to go home to after all of this was over worried him a great deal. Working for the CIA was not only his way of paying tribute to his father, but it was also all he ever wanted to do and he couldn't imagine doing anything else. "Maybe I should seriously consider working for Irina, after all."

"No, Michael, don't even think that." Sydney admonished him. "I won't allow you to lose your job over this and neither will my father."

"Sydney, you're a remarkable agent, but the idiots in charge don't consider you irreplaceable." Vaughn shook his head ruefully. "And your father is not exactly high on anyone's list right now, especially Devlin's."

"But don't you think it'll all be forgotten if you collar one Irina Derevko AKA 'The Man?'" 

"Is that what we're planning on doing here?" Vaughn looked surprised. "I thought we just wanted to escape."

"I think we can do both if the opportunity presents itself." Sydney said confidently. "But even if it doesn't, there's no way the CIA would turn their backs on us, especially when we're the only two agents in the free world to have had intimate contact with The Man." 

"Yeah, I think the higher-ups would definitely be interested in finding out what we know." He admitted.

"So I think they'll be willing to overlook what we did here." Sydney said. "I mean, I know no one's untouchable, but I think they'd rather have Irina Derevko's daughter working for them than against them."

"Okay, so where do we go from here?" Vaughn asked her. "Do we just sit and wait until Irina decides to make her next move?"

"I don't think we have a choice." Sydney replied. "Until she knows where you stand, she's not going to want to talk business with you around."

"What about finding our own way out of here? Can we steal a car, scale the fence, anything?"

"With all the armed guards around this place, I don't know if it's going to be that easy."

She grimaced. "But I will nose around and see what I can come up with in regard to the security system." Suddenly feeling bone-weary after such an emotional and eventful day, she laid her head down on his shoulder and yawned. The two of them sat quietly for a few moments, both of them gazing out at the barely visible lights of the city that seemed so far away.

"Michael, have you ever felt so alone?" She asked plaintively.

His arms tightened around her. "Sydney, you are not alone. You have me and I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, I don't mean it that way." She let out a sigh. "It's just that no one knows where we are, Michael. Not Devlin or Weiss or even my father."

"Well, if I know Jack, I know he's doing his damnedest to try to find out where you are." Vaughn said comfortingly.

"I'm sure he is, but I'm not optimistic that he'll have much luck." Sydney sounded forlorn. "What kind of a lead could he follow? We're so far removed from that nightclub, we might as well have vanished into thin air."

"Syd, don't give up hope." Vaughn said sternly. "Your father is one of the most resourceful, most determined men I've ever met and when it comes to you, he's an absolute bulldog."

She gave him a small smile, picturing her father's face with a pair of hangdog jowls and a little body as sturdy as a footstool. "You're right." She said, a bit more positively. "I mean, he has Will with him, right? Will's an investigative reporter and he's used to digging up leads and--why are you suddenly snickering like Mr. Ed?" She slapped playfully at his chest while he tried to keep from bursting out laughing.

"I-I'm sorry, Sydney," Vaughn's eyes filled with mirth. "It's just the idea of Will being helpful…" He shook his head and started chuckling again.

"Michael!" Sydney said with a trace of indignation in her voice. "Will _can_ be useful, you know." 

"Right, and have you forgotten that he is one of the reasons we're in this mess?" His lips twisted.

"Along with a certain someone's inability to make tracks when I told him to?" Sydney poked him in the arm. Vaughn ducked his head, having the grace to acknowledge his role in the whole saga. It felt so strange to be able to joke about it now.

"I was in shock." He informed her haughtily, which caused Sydney to laugh out loud. Her giggle was so infectious, Vaughn couldn't help but join in.

"Okay, okay," He said grudgingly. "So everyone's to blame and no one's to blame."

"That's better." Sydney said approvingly, still grinning. "You know, I think you would like Will if you got the chance to know him."

"And would that be because we have so much in common?" He inquired with a straight look on his face.

"What do you mean?" She gave him a questioning look.

"Well, you know, the whole being-in-love-with-the-same-woman thing." Vaughn said teasingly.

Sydney blushed. "I thought we were going to forget about that."

"I never said that." He gave her a playful look. "So what's the story, Syd?"

"The story about what?" She said vaguely.

"You and Will." He said slyly.

"There is no me and Will, Michael." Sydney said firmly. "There never was and there will be."

"Oh, come on, there had to have been a reason why he fell in love with you all those years ago." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you trying to say I _did_ something to make him fall in love with me?" She pretended to be affronted. "Couldn't it have just been my sparkling personality and stunning good looks?" She said facetiously.

"Well, I know that's why _I_ fell in love with you." He nuzzled her neck and she giggled. "Seriously, Syd, did you ever have any feelings for him?" The teasing note had left his voice and he sounded thoughtful. 

"I love Will like the brother I wish I had." Sydney said truthfully and then made a face. "Not like the one I actually got." She added, referring to Sark. Vaughn grinned.

"A romantic relationship never would have worked between the two of us." Sydney shook her head. "There was just never any sparks."

"Well, sparks are very important, but I'm still kind of surprised that he never even made an attempt--" Vaughn was watching Sydney's face as he spoke and he caught the flash of a suddenly recalled memory flit across on her face. "What was that look?"

"What look?" She tried to play the wide-eyed innocent, but failed miserably.

"That look that says something did happen, but you're not sure you want to tell me." He gave her a penetrating glance.

"I have a look that says all that?"

"You'd be surprised at how good I am at reading your expressions." He said smugly.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "Well, since it appears you won't let me get out of this one, I guess I have to tell you." She inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. "He--that is, we--kissed." She admitted. "Once." She added quickly and with emphasis. "After Danny."

"So then this was fairly recently." Vaughn felt an irrational twinge of jealousy even though he knew it was ridiculous of him to feel that way.

"Not fairly recently." She objected. "More like in the fairly recent past."

"Was this after we met?"

"Yes." Sydney closed her eyes, suddenly recalling that awful moment when Will kissed her that second time. It had been so hideously uncomfortable she must have blocked it out of her mind. "Oops, I take it back. It was twice."

"Twice?" Vaughn feigned so obvious a jealous outrage that Sydney threatened to dissolve into laughter again. "Once might be considered a momentary lapse in judgment, but twice means there was some serious forethought to the second attempt." He was pretending to be upset, but he wasn't really. He just liked to tease her.

"No doubt true." Sydney acknowledged and then covered her face in embarrassment. "Oh, Michael, it was so awful! We were a little drunk the first time and that one just kind of happened, but the second time, Will must have been thinking about it for awhile because when he did it, he just grabbed me before I even had time to react!"

"It was so incredibly awkward. Right in the middle of him kissing me, I had this feeling of 'Why am I doing this?' and I opened my eyes and stopped kissing him. That caused him to stop kissing me back and we suddenly found ourselves in this situation of having our lips pressed against each other for no good reason at all!" She shot a glance at Vaughn to see how he was reacting to one of the most embarrassing moments of her life and found him barely able to hold in his amusement. He let out a loud guffaw and then lost it completely.

"Michael, it was not funny!" She wailed as he chortled away. Seeing him laugh was a great mood-lifter and she let out a few red-faced giggles.

"I'm glad we can still laugh at a time like this." Vaughn murmured to her a little while later after they had calmed down.

"Why do you think that is?" She asked. "We should be moaning and groaning about our sticky predicament, but instead we're giggling like a bunch of schoolkids."

"Well, I guess it's because we know that if we have each other, we can get through anything." Vaughn said thoughtfully.

"And that's the truth." She whispered to him, snuggling against him. She felt so safe in his arms and that was a rare feeling for her.

"Syd?"

"Hmmm?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I believe I'm still one behind Will Tippin in the Kiss department." He informed her with a teasing note in his voice.

"Are you sure?" Sydney pretended to ponder, a smile tugging at her lips. "I seem to recall back in the guest cottage--"

"Sydney!" Vaughn groaned. "You're not going to deny a simple kiss to a man who almost met his maker last night, are you?"

"Oh, I could never deny you anything!" She wound her arms around his neck and let out a squeal as he lunged at her, cutting her off before another word came out of her mouth. Their kiss was intense and passionate.

Then she kissed him again, just to make sure he came out ahead of Will.

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Hey, we're almost at 100 reviews, so keep 'em coming, guys!  This is a good start considering we're not even halfway through yet.  This chapter and the next few chapters are turning out to be rather long and I'll try to get them out as quickly as I can.  As always, thanks so much for your feedback.


	8. The Waiting Game

**Author's Note**: Yay, I made it to 100+ reviews.  Thanks so much for taking the time to read my fic and I hope it's keeping you all interested enough to wait for more.  Another long chapter ahead with a little more backstory that leads into some plot development.

Let me know what you think.

P.S. to Corinne: I'm not a fan of Penelope Cruz, either (I can't **stand** her voice), but hey, Vaughn has to have some flaws, doesn't he?  (On second thought, maybe he doesn't because he's just so perfect to look at, but oh well…)

See ya later!

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A strange kind of status quo settled over the house for the next few days. Irina made no move to hurry Vaughn along in his recovery process, she didn't seem overly concerned in obtaining an oath of loyalty from him and instead appeared more interested in her daughter's blossoming relationship with her young man. Sydney and Vaughn were obviously glad for the time they were getting to spend together (so much so that they hardly gave a thought to anything else), but Sark was obnoxiously impatient about the whole waiting game and wondered when his mother would stop playing prospective mother-of –the-bride and get back to their business at hand.

Although they had known each other for the better part of a year, Sydney's and Vaughn's budding love affair was still in a very new and fragile state. They knew things about each other that their very closest friends couldn't even begin to guess about, but the simple yet complex act of falling in love brought an entirely new dimension to their already intense relationship. Sydney was a bit apprehensive as to how things would progress between her and Vaughn now that they had said "I love you" to one another. He knew her as well as anyone ever did; she knew only bits and pieces about him.

So they spent their time together filling in the blanks. She was the one to listen to him talk for a change, so she got to learn all sorts of little tidbits about him, such as the fact that he had braces as a kid (which accounted for the heart-stopping smile), his favorite Beatle was George (he could identify with the shy one) and he always remembered his mother on her birthday and Mother's Day (very sweet).

Another interesting quirk Sydney found out about Vaughn--regarding an aspect of his personality she had never even known existed--was that he had a rather playful sense of humor and he displayed it to her with a comfortable ease that thrilled her. He, who had always been so consciously reserved around her when they were still agent and handler was a virtual tiger with her now that they were a couple. She adored kissing and being kissed by him, every brush of his lips and each caress of his hand igniting a fire deep within her. Sometimes her desire for him--to _be_ with him in every sense of the word--was so intense she couldn't stand it and it created an ache inside of her that she could feel right down to her soul.

Sydney desperately wanted to make love with Vaughn and he made no secret of the fact that he wanted to do the same (he was deliciously evil at trying to tempt her), but so far she was resisting, albeit with her head and not with her heart.

Sydney wanted their first time to be special. After everything they had gone through, she didn't think that was too much to ask. When she and Vaughn made love for the first time, she wanted it to be only about them and them alone. 

And that was why it couldn't happen here, in this place that felt like a prison to her. True, it was a very plush and posh prison, but a prison nonetheless. Not even taking into consideration the armed guards who kept up a constant patrol along the grounds, she also had to deal with her two prison wardens, Irina and Sark.

Irina was the watcher. Sydney felt her mother's eyes on her all the time, constantly studying and scrutinizing her daughter with a wary look on her face. She always got the feeling that Irina was very tightly coiled, ready to spring in a moment's notice if Sydney suddenly bolted from the room and ran out the front door. So she purposely made sure to always seem very relaxed and contented around her mother. If Irina thought she was settling in to her new environment, maybe she would let down her guard and _then_ Sydney could bolt. 

Sark's surveillance technique was not as oppressive as Irina's, but he was still a pain in the neck. Whenever they were in the same room together, they were always bickering and sniping at each other. She actually didn't mind the arguing so much; at least he gave as good as he got and he could be amusing at times. Sydney had discovered that her brother was notoriously possessive of their mother and didn't like the fact that Irina was going out of her way to get back into her daughter's good graces at the expense of ignoring him. Sydney took advantage of his jealousy by taunting him with it every chance she got.

When she told Vaughn her reasons for wanting to wait, he was completely understanding about the whole thing because he felt the same way. He and Sydney knew the phones were bugged (which is why they went out of their way to never even go near a phone) and it stood to reason that their rooms were probably wired for video as well. He wasn't a prude by any means, but just the thought of exposing his and Sydney's private moments to her mother and her brother and all of their minions (because he _knew_ Sark would somehow find a way to mass-produce the tapes just to be evil) was enough to turn him off completely, although he did have fun trying to get her to do everything but. 

During each of their first five days as a "happy" reunited family, Irina forced Sydney into doing some intense bonding sessions with her. She wanted to know about everything that had happened in Sydney's life ever since she'd left it and since that was a fairly lengthy number of years, sometimes she kept Sydney talking for up to two or three hours at a time.

Sydney was resentful at having to recount her entire life history to Irina (if she cared so much, she shouldn't have left) although she never showed it outwardly. Playing her part of the slowly thawing daughter to the hilt, Sydney conned Irina into believing that she was quite enthusiastic about telling her exceedingly interested mother all about her childhood, her schooling, her friends. She talked endlessly about Francie and Will and Danny and Vaughn with Irina hanging on every word.

But after five days of spewing everything there was to know about her life, Sydney decided it was time her mother did some of the talking.

They were in the library, just the two of them. Vaughn was resting (he still wasn't completely over his near-death experience) and Sark was off somewhere sulking. Irina and Sydney were sharing a pot of Japanese green tea while seated in their usual spots, Sydney curled up on the sofa with her feet tucked under her and Irina in the wing chair, her legs crossed in a ladylike fashion.

As soon as Irina handed her the bone china teacup, Sydney spoke up. "Mom, do you mind if we not talk about me today?"

Irina flushed, suddenly realizing that Sydney must be feeling overwhelmed by her endless barrage of questions about her life. She was trying too hard, trying to pack twenty-two years of missing out on every important event that had happened in her daughter's life into five short days. "I'm sorry, Sydney, I just didn't think." Her mother apologized.

"Oh, I don't mind talking about myself." Sydney said to reassure her. "I just thought you could return the favor."

Irina looked surprised but pleased. "You want to find out about me?"

"Why does that surprise you?" Sydney took a sip of her tea.

"I didn't think you cared." Her mother admitted.

"There's a lot about you that I don't know, Mom." Sydney pretended to be hesitant. "I don't know if you want to share it with me--" 

"What do you want to know, Sydney?" Her mother gave her an introspective look.

It was almost too easy. "Is Sark really your son?" She asked.

"Of course he is." Irina looked puzzled. "Why would I lie about such a thing?" Her tone was faintly defensive.

"I didn't mean to imply that you would." Sydney replied hastily. "It was just a big shock to me when I found out and I didn't believe him at first."

Irina lowered her gaze. "Well, it is true. That is not something I would lie about."

_No, you'd lie about everything else but_ not_ about your precious son_. "And Sloane really is--" Even now she couldn't say it.

"--his father." Irina finished Sydney's statement for her. "I suppose you must think very badly of me right now." She said, her tone slightly defiant as if she were preparing to go into battle.

"Why would you think that?" She was very careful to keep a judgmental tone out of her voice and that caught her mother off-guard.

"I had an affair with another man while I was still married to your father." She pointed out unnecessarily.

"The marriage wasn't real, so why should you have respected your wedding vows?" Sydney shrugged, her casual attitude a façade for how she really felt. In truth, she was sickened, not only by her mother's betrayal of her father, but also by the fact that she had slept with the vilest of men, Arvin Sloane. It was enough to turn her stomach inside out.

A few moments of tense silence filled the air between them. Sydney had to force herself to speak again, reminding herself over and over that winning Irina's trust was her and Vaughn's ticket to freedom.

"Mom?" The word no longer fell as naturally from her lips as it did when she was a child and it took an actual effort to remember to say it out loud from time to time. The feelings behind the moniker were simply buried too deep and Sydney wasn't sure if they could ever be unearthed from within her.

"Yes, Sydney?"

"What was the reason for your affair?" She asked in a neutral tone. "Did you…have feelings for him?" Just saying those words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Irina looked at her for a long moment and then let out a peal of harsh-sounding laughter. "Oh, Sydney, please don't think I wanted to have anything to do with that man! It made me physically ill every time he touched me."

"But you still went through with it." Sydney purposely made herself sound curious rather than condemning. Irina had to believe she was empathizing with her, not being disgusted by her.

"Those were my orders." Irina said simply. "Your father was becoming mistrustful of me, I think. He was not so careless about leaving his briefcase or his files lying around where I could get into them."

"So my superiors came up with a plan for me to obtain classified information from another source. We knew Arvin was with SD-6 at that point, but because of his background, he was still deeply involved in the funneling of confidential data between the CIA and SD-6."

Sydney gave her a look of surprise. "SD-6 had a mole in the CIA?"

"For awhile." Irina nodded. "Unfortunately, the man came to an untimely demise and as far as I know, they've never attempted to have another agent infiltrate the agency."

"So your affair with Sloane was for informational purposes only." Sydney said slowly, placing her cup and saucer on the table before she could be tempted to throw them across the room in a fit of anger. To think that her mother could be so cold and calculating was frightening to her. After all, everyone always said how alike they were…

"The SD-6 mole reported directly to Arvin, so he was privy to all sorts of valuable material." Irina laughed derisively. "Poor Arvin! He actually believed I was attracted to him. As if I ever could have been tempted by that weasel!" She scoffed.

"He never suspected what your true motives were?"

"I was a very conscientious agent, Sydney." Her mother informed her haughtily. "Arvin and I never met in either of our homes, only in a hotel room. I always arrived first and I always made sure there was a bottle of scotch waiting for him."

The truth dawned. "You tampered with his drinks." Sydney said flatly.

"So he never caught me." Irina gave a careless shrug.

"Okay, so you've told me your reason." She paused. "What was his? I thought he loved Emily."

"Oh, he does." Irina nodded. "He thinks she is the most perfect creature God ever put on this earth." Her expression turned to one of distaste. "And I suppose she must be if she could love a man like him."  
  


"Then why would he cheat on her? It doesn't make sense."

Irina gave her a brief smile. "Perhaps you would grasp it better if you understood how eaten away Arvin is by the jealousy he feels towards your father."

Sydney frowned. "What reason does he have to be jealous of Dad?" 

"Arvin and your father both came to the Los Angeles branch of the CIA around the same time." Her mother began. "They were assigned to the same division and they were both designated as field agents."

"That was Arvin's dream job." Irina went on. "He always envisioned himself as the James Bond type, the kind of man who could charm his way out of any situation and who always got what he came for."

Sydney couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, right."

"Unfortunately, things did not work out the way he wanted. Arvin was disastrous in the field. He has a great analytical mind and is a brilliant tactician, but back then, he was quite useless when it came to making snap decisions in crucial situations." Irina said callously. "About six months after he started, they transferred him back to Headquarters and assigned him to a desk job."

"That must have stung." Sydney felt a slight pang of compassion for the man in spite of herself. To be forced to give up on a lifelong dream because you just weren't good enough had to be a tough pill to swallow.

"Well, it certainly didn't help matters that your father flourished as a field operative. He was quite the fair-haired boy in those days and he rose quickly through the ranks." Her mother told her. "And to add insult to injury, everyone started calling _him_ 'James Bond' or 'J.B.' because they coincidentally had the same initials."

"And I bet that drove Sloane crazy."

"He was not happy." Irina shook her head. "Oh, he pretended to Jack's face that he was thrilled for all of his success, but I'm sure he was seething inside. Even though Arvin himself was also promoted to a fairly high-ranking position during the same time period, it always rankled him that your father was the Golden Boy. The animosity he felt became even greater when he found out I was pregnant with you."

"He and Emily never had any children, you know." Sydney interjected.

"Yes." She acknowledged. "And that was just one more thing Jack did better than him."

"So are you telling me that his motivation for the affair with you was purely out of spite towards Dad?" Sydney couldn't believe anyone could be so petty, but then she realized she was talking about the Devil Incarnate here.

"Arvin never questioned why I initiated the affair." Irina smirked. "He probably thought I wasn't being…properly fulfilled what with your father always being away." She said delicately. "So he was more than happy to help out in Jack's absence."

"Yeah, he has a habit of doing that." Sydney mused, thinking about all the times Sloane had filled in for Jack in her own life. And she had let him, because she hadn't known any better. 

A question was still gnawing at her brain. "What about your pregnancy?" Sydney asked, her tone slightly accusatory. "You were supposed to be such a competent agent. How could you let that happen?"

"Nothing is foolproof, Sydney." Irina replied evenly. "Even though we took every precaution, sometimes things happen that are beyond your control."

"Getting pregnant was certainly not something I wanted to have happen nor was it part of some grand Machiavellian scheme to pit Arvin against your father." Her mother gazed at her with a stoic expression on her face. "Tragically, it became one of the reasons why I had to leave."

"I don't understand." She looked confused. "They let you have me."

"I was in a different place when I became pregnant the second time." Irina said vaguely. "For one thing, I never could have explained the pregnancy to Jack. He's a smart man and he would have done the math."

A light bulb went on in Sydney's head. "Are you saying there was no possible way he could have been the father?"

"No," She shook her head. "He was away on assignment in South America. Do you remember that last time he left, Sydney? We drove him to the airport and you waved to him as the plane took off, actually believing that he could see you and was waving back at you." Irina smiled at Sydney's silly childhood notions.

"I remember doing that a lot, actually." Sydney said thoughtfully.

"That was an undercover assignment in Colombia." Irina replied. "The week I disappeared was the first time I'd seen him in over two months."

Sydney became subdued. "So you couldn't tell him about the pregnancy because then it would have come out about the affair."

"Yes, and it would have raised a few red flags in your father's mind about my reasons for having the affair considering that I had never made my distaste for Arvin a secret." Her mother let out a sigh. "Even if I could have explained it away by saying I felt lonely and abandoned, I never could have explained why I had chosen Arvin."

"So you see, Sydney," Irina gave her a beseeching look. "My leaving your father wasn't so much about wanting to hurt him as it was about trying to protect him from getting hurt."

_Oh, she did not just say that to me_! Sydney fumed silently to herself. _She couldn't be so delusional as to believe I'd actually fall for that lame excuse_!

Irina was watching her again, with that same guarded look on her face as if she was just waiting for Sydney to vehemently denounce her mother's contemptible actions. So Sydney did what any dutiful daughter would do in that situation; she lied through her teeth.

"You were in a very difficult position." Sydney said carefully, trying to impart just the right note of sincerity and compassion. She did not want to come across as some sort of sycophant, saying only what she thought Irina wanted to hear. Even if that were the case, she didn't want the thought to even tiptoe across Irina's mind.

Irina gave her a speculative look. "I thought you would hate me for betraying your father. Especially with a man you despise."

"I know what it's like to be put in a no-win situation." She said quietly. "You're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't."

"Our lives have paralleled a great deal, haven't they, Sydney?" Irina said softly. "I never realized how much."

Sydney didn't know how to respond to that, so she just kept quiet, letting Irina think she was merely contemplating the profundity of her mother's statement. In reality, Sydney was dying to get out of there. This game of True Confessions was getting to be too much to handle and she felt as if the walls were closing in on her. On top of that, her stomach was feeling unsettled and she thought it would be good idea if she put something in it.

"Are you hungry?" Irina suddenly jumped up, startling Sydney into wondering if she could read minds. "Let's go to the kitchen and I'll make us something to eat."

"You're going to cook?" Sydney couldn't keep the surprised look from her face.

Irina's mouth curved amusedly. "I _do_ know how to cook, Sydney."

"I know you do, but when was the last time you did?"

"So it's been awhile." Irina shrugged nonchalantly. "I bet I can still make your favorite lunch." Her mother suddenly grinned and it eased the tension in her face considerably.

"Grilled ham and swiss cheese?" The fat content was astronomical, but she'd eat every bite with a satisfied smile on her face if it meant she was one step closer to gaining Irina's trust.

"Of course," Her mother replied blithely. "But I must warn you that I don't have any of those rubbery processed cheese squares you loved when you were a child. This will be real Swiss cheese with actual holes."

Sydney let out an actual laugh at her mother's attempt for humor. "I think I'll be able to choke it down." She deadpanned.

Irina's kitchen was a gourmet's dream. Twin stainless steel sub-zero refrigerators were placed along the short wall surrounded by a number of oak-stained glass-fronted cabinets. A huge range with six gas burners and a double oven took center stage along the back wall with various appliances ranging from a professional Kitchenaid mixer to a retro-style seafoam green toaster that Sydney remembered seeing in a Williams-Sonoma catalog arranged in a neat row on the wide butcher block countertops that were on either side of the stove. A large rectangular kitchen island with a cool marble surface sat in the middle of the room, providing for lots of drawer and storage space as well as serving as an informal dining area. Sydney had also heard Sark bragging at one time or another about the fully stocked wine cellar in the basement. Say what you will about Irina, but the woman definitely knew how to enjoy the finer things in life.

Irina selected a gleaming copper pan from a rack over the kitchen island and set it on the stove, lighting the burner before she went over to the refrigerator. Sydney took a seat and watched as her mother rooted around for her ingredients.

"I don't suppose you would want _prosciutto_ and Swiss cheese, would you?" Irina glanced at her.

Sydney was quite fond of the thinly sliced Italian ham, but this was supposed to be about re-creating a moment from her childhood. "No, Mom." She said firmly. "Don't you have Oscar Mayer?"

"Bite your tongue, Sydney." Irina scolded and stuck her head back into the refrigerator. She finally emerged with a package of Black Forest ham the cook had sliced by hand the day before as well as a block of Swiss cheese. Also balanced in her arms was a stoneware crock of butter along with a pre-washed bag of salad makings.

"Might as well try to balance out the fat and cholesterol with some healthy greens." Irina gave her the bag of lettuce. "Would you toss the salad, Sydney?"

"Sure." She got up off her stool and went over to one of the cabinets to take out a wooden salad bowl. After dumping the lettuce into the bowl, she found a measuring cup and proceeded to make a vinaigrette with olive oil and red wine vinegar while Irina busied herself with buttering slices of freshly baked bread to toast.

A few minutes later, Irina was depositing a perfectly grilled ham and Swiss cheese sandwich onto her plate, both sides of the bread toasty and golden-brown, the cheese oozing out from the sides. Just like when she was a kid.

At that moment, Sark strolled into the kitchen, surprised to see his mother and sister talking and laughing with each other. His eyes narrowed as he took in the quaintly domestic scene.

"Well, what is going on here?" He asked with a false exuberance.

"Sydney and I are having a snack, Sergei." Irina announced cheerfully. "Would you like to join us?"

Sark openly gaped at his mother. "I can't believe you actually got Mother to cook." He looked at Sydney with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Inside he was extremely upset. This situation was quickly spinning out of his control. "I can't even get her to scramble an egg for me."

"Well, maybe she just likes me best." Sydney taunted Sark sweetly. He glared at her behind their mother's back.

"Now, Sydney, don't tease your brother." Irina scolded. "Sergei knows I don't play favorites. He's exaggerating, anyway. Don't I always make your favorite _borscht_ when you are sick?" 

"Not for a very long time, Mother." His voice was hard, unyielding. Sark turned on his heel without a word and stalked from the room.

*     *     *     *     *

He needed a drink. So what if it wasn't his first or second or even his fifth of the day?

Sark had his sights set on the bar as he strode purposefully into the game room and he realized too late that he wasn't alone. He cut his eyes over to the right and his lip curled. Big Sister's Lover Boy was already there, relaxing on the leather sofa, reading a book. Vaughn looked up with an interested expression on his face as he watched Sark head straight for the bar without even an acknowledgment of his presence in the room.

"Can I _help_ you?" Sark barked at Vaughn, an acid quality in his voice as he went behind the bar. He hated when people stared at him.

Vaughn immediately picked up on the hostility emanating from the younger man. "What's the matter, Sark?" He stood up and put his book on the table before going over to the bar. "You look upset." He watched as Sark took a healthy swig of his drink before answering.

Sark eyed him with undisguised resentment. "Look, I already have a Big Sister I didn't ask for. Don't try to become the Big Brother I never wanted."

"It was just a simple question." Vaughn put his hands up as if to deflect Sark's wrath. "Hand me a beer, will you?" He settled onto a stool, thinking to himself how he could work the situation.

Sark gave a sigh as if it were a great chore for him to open the refrigerator door and take out a bottle of beer. "All we have is imported. Nothing American." He added, a note of derision in his voice.

"Whatever you have is fine." Vaughn said placidly. Sark rolled his eyes and selected a Molson's for him. He even graciously removed the cap before handing it to him.

"Thanks." Vaughn accepted the bottle and put it to his lips.

Sark was looking at him with a sour expression on his face. "How do you really feel about being kept here?"

"Being kept?" Vaughn repeated thoughtfully. "You mean like a prisoner?"

"That's what you are, aren't you, even though everyone is so polite about not calling it that." Sark said caustically. "The way I see it, if we're holding you against your will, then you are a prisoner."

"Well, that's where your theory falls apart." Vaughn replied. "You're assuming I want to leave." 

"Don't you?" Sark raised an eyebrow. "It can't be easy for you to turn your back on your country and the life you had before all this happened."

"My work for the government was very important to me," Vaughn acknowledged. "But Sydney supersedes all of it. I would never give her up for the chance to go back to my life the way it was before."

"She means that much to you." He said as a statement of fact, more than a question.

"She means everything." Vaughn said seriously.

"How touching." Sark said with a sneer. "I guess that explains why you did what you did." He said cryptically, swallowing another large gulp of his vodka on the rocks.

"Give me a clue as to what you're talking about."

Sark's lips twisted. "Let's not play games anymore, shall we?" He said crisply.  "Denpasar. You _were_ the agent who captured me and handcuffed me to the gate."

Vaughn saw no further reason to deny it, so he didn't. "That's right."

"And then you left me and I was appropriated by the SD-6 agents."

"Right again."

"Did you leave because Sydney was in trouble?" Sark looked curious. "Isn't it against your CIA protocol to abandon a prisoner before he has been secured?"

"I did make the mistake of leaving you before you were sufficiently contained." Vaughn admitted. "But I would make that choice again in a heartbeat if it meant saving Sydney from harm."  
  


"And is she so much more valuable to your agency than I am?" Sark said mockingly. "I'm hurt."

"You have no idea how valuable she is." Vaughn said quietly. "But I have feeling your mother does." He prepared to twist the screws a little tighter.

Sark fixed an icy glare at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, Sydney has told me how close she and Irina are becoming again." Vaughn said casually. "It's almost as if they were never separated." 

Sark gave him a blank look. "I still fail to see your point." He said impatiently as he refilled his glass.

Vaughn gave him a knowing look. "Come on, Sark, Irina told Sydney that her driving force behind becoming The Man and building her powerbase was because she always envisioned Sydney as being a part of all of it." He zeroed in for the kill. "Don't you feel threatened by the fact that Irina has placed so many of her hopes and dreams on Sydney and not on you?"

"We are not in any sort of competition for Irina's affections." Sark was saying all the appropriate words but Vaughn saw the muscle in his jaw twitching. He was definitely bothered.

"No, I don't think your mother _consciously_ plays favorites with her children in her personal life." Vaughn coolly slipped in a little dig in regard to Irina's obvious attempts to win Sydney over at the expense of her relationship with Sark.

"But let me ask you something, Sark," He paused. "When the time comes for Irina to choose a successor to her throne, who do you think will be first in line?" Vaughn asked softly.

Sark's blue eyes became glacial. "Mother has always said that I would take over the organization once she decides to step down." He said stoically.

"But that was before Sydney came back into her life." Vaughn stood up and gave Sark a pitying look, which enraged the younger man. "It seems to me that this is a classic case of primogeniture, kid. You know, the firstborn shall inherit the earth and the second-born gets the shaft?" He let out an amused chuckle and then left the room, knowing he was leaving Sark to stew in his own juices.

_That's what you think_, Sark fumed silently. _Big Sister is in for a rude awakening if she thinks she can just waltz back into Mother's life and take what was promised to me_. _I will never let that happen_, he vowed. _Sydney will not have what is supposed to be mine_.

All of a sudden, Sark felt a stab of pain and when he came out of his reverie, he found the crystal tumbler had shattered in his clenched fist. He opened his hand, the broken pieces of glass slipping heedlessly from his grasp, and watched in an almost trancelike fascination as the multitude of cuts he had suffered slowly created a myriad of red droplets on the palm of his hand. He stared at the slivers of glass embedded within his flesh, his blood running in rivulets over and around the tiny shards, and wondered to himself if Sydney's blood was just as red and if it would flow just as freely.

_To be continued_…


	9. Question of Loyalty

**Author's Note**: Some parts in the beginning may be rated **R**-ish, so please read at your own discretion.

*     *     *     *     *

Every evening after dinner, Sydney and Vaughn escaped from the house to go off by themselves. It wasn't as if they didn't see each other during the day, but they thought of this as their private time, to laugh and steal kisses and complain and strategize. Irina saw to it that the guards kept their distance and neither she nor Sark dared to intrude in on their time together.

They took to going by the lookout on most evenings. The path leading out to the edge of the cliff was surrounded by a wide open expanse of grass with hardly any trees to hide behind so that no one could sneak up on them without being seen and far enough away from the house that their conversations could not be overheard. 

The lookout also afforded them a view of the city lights, which renewed their faith that the real world still existed out there and all hope was not lost. They just had to stay strong and keep true to the belief that some way they would find a means to escape.

"Michael, I think I am going to snap if I have to listen to Irina justify her actions one more time." Sydney was ranting again as she had done every night before. She and Vaughn were sitting together in a cozy hammock Irina had set up by the lookout especially for them. After carefully inspecting it for listening devices, Sydney grudgingly admitted that it had been a sweet gesture. "She wants me to be open-minded and understand why she did everything she did, but that's like asking me to forget all the pain and suffering she caused and I just can't do that."

"I know it's difficult to sit there and take it, Sydney, but you have to hang in." Vaughn said consolingly. "You're making real progress with her and you can't give up now."

"That's easy for you to say." She made a face. "You're not the one trapped in that stuffy, overdone library with a pasted smile on your face, nodding and agreeing like some brain-dead Stepford wife."

"No, but that's why you're the brawn of this outfit." He replied.

Sydney threw him a strange look. "I'm the what?"

"The brawn. The action star. The person this whole drama revolves around." Vaughn elaborated. "You get to tackle all the tough assignments."

"Oh, lucky me." She deadpanned. "And what's your role in this production?" She inquired, a grin playing about her lips. His plan to draw her out of her sour mood was working.

"I'm the peripheral guy. Strictly behind the scenes." Vaughn looked thoughtful. "In other words, the brains." He added modestly.

Sydney laughed out loud. "If you're the brains, then I'm in trouble." Her eyes danced merrily.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that one!" Vaughn lunged for her, grabbing her where she was most ticklish until she laughingly started screaming for mercy. He didn't torture her for very long, but by the time he relented, they were both breathing heavily and it wasn't because they had over-exerted themselves in their horseplay. No, it probably had more to do with the fact that he had ended up on top of Sydney in a rather provocative position.

They were both consciously aware of the heat generating between them, the fact that a mere few layers of denim and cotton and Lycra was all that separated them from the feel of smooth bare skin against skin. Sydney was gazing up at him with her hair in a sexy tousle and her sensuously full lips parted just a tad and it was too much for him to resist. Vaughn lowered his head to kiss her, slipping his arms around her body to draw her closer. Sydney melted against him and the two of them didn't come up for air for awhile. 

"Syd?" They were lying side by side now, his arm around her and her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Vaughn's eyes were closed as he suddenly felt Sydney's tongue flick at the spot right below his earlobe. Somehow his shirt had become unbuttoned down from more than his usual two, which afforded her very easy access as she leisurely proceeded to trail kisses down his neck.

"Yes, Michael?" She purred, loving how his skin tasted and how good he smelled.

He groaned pleasurably. "Tell me again why we aren't running over to the guest cottage so I can tear your clothes off right now?"

"Michael, you know why." Sydney stopped what she was doing to remind him, although at the moment she couldn't think of a single good reason why as his hand crept underneath her skimpy tank top, his fingers inching their way up her flat stomach towards the curve of her breast.

"But, sweetheart, I promise I will make it up to you on the very first night we are away from here." Sydney pressed herself closer against his body, which only served to inflame him more. "Rest up and be prepared because I have waited just as long as you have and I intend to have my way with you." She smiled seductively, kissing him softly on the lips. After a few moments, Vaughn found it too much to bear and he rolled away from her, off the hammock, and fell the scant six inches face-down onto the grass. 

"Michael!" Sydney cried out, her face looming above him over the side of the hammock. "Why did you do that?"

"Because if I don't, I'm going to be forced to take a cold shower when I get back to the house and I hate cold showers." He informed her matter-of-factly, making no move to get up just yet.

A giggle escaped her lips. "Well, at least get up off the ground."

"No, I'm pretty comfortable where I am." Vaughn replied.

"Michael, the grass is damp and you'll stain your clothes."

"Thanks for the warning, _Mom_, but they're not my clothes." He rolled his eyes at her. "They're your brother's hand-me-downs."

"Oh, well, then in that case, I don't care what you do to them." She gave him an impish grin and he shook his head at her, hiding a smile of his own.

"Since Sark's name has come up," Vaughn looked at Sydney. "I just remembered that I wanted to ask you what happened with him earlier today."

"When?"

"I guess it was around the time you and Irina were having your daily powwow." He said thoughtfully. "I was in the game room and he came in like a charging bull, headed straight for the bar and proceeded to pour himself a very large vodka on the rocks."

"Oooh, I knew he was upset when he found Irina and me in the kitchen together!" Sydney squealed delightedly. She told him all about today's gabfest with her mother and how it had extended all the way into Irina's Happy Homemaker routine. 

"He tried to play it off as if it wasn't a big deal, but it obviously bothered him to see us looking all chummy." Sydney mused.

"Yeah, I think it's pretty much driving Sark crazy that you have Irina's ear." Vaughn moved back to sit next to Sydney on the hammock, but made sure to keep both his feet planted firmly on the ground. "At least, that's what I got out of talking to him."

Sydney gave him a surprised sideways glance. "Are you working that angle, too?"

"Hey, you're not the only one to realize that fostering sibling rivalry is a great divide-and-conquer tactic." He chided her.

"Do you think he's mad enough to want to get rid of me?"

Vaughn's forehead crinkled worriedly. "I hope you mean that figuratively and not literally."

Sydney rolled her eyes at him. "Michael, I don't think Sark would resort to murder just to get back his cushy second-in-command post."

"Right, because we both know he's way too much of an upstanding guy to kill someone for personal gain." Vaughn said ironically.

She shot him a wry grin. "It would hardly put him in Mummy's good graces if he knocked off his big sister now, would it?" She reminded him.

"Well, you've got a point there, thank goodness."

"Although I wouldn't put it past him to try something and then make it look like an accident." She said reflectively.

"Gee, Syd, thanks a lot for now giving me something else to worry about."

Sydney let out a frustrated sigh. "God, he's so insufferable. Every time I look at him, I just want to wipe that arrogant look off his face."

"He likes to push your buttons, Syd, and you let him." Vaughn pointed out to her.

"I know."

"But you do it, too, so I guess you're both even." He glanced over at her. "You're really getting into this sibling rivalry thing, aren't you?"

She made a face. "I know it's immature and I know I should just ignore him whenever he hassles me, but he makes it impossible. He always acts so smug and superior."

"Well, I guess there's no harm in it, but I wouldn't expect a Christmas present from him this year if I were you."

Sydney giggled and then slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, God, I can't believe I didn't mention this before, but it appears Irina is ready to discuss 'business' with you." Sydney did double quotation marks with her fingers. "Maybe tonight, if you're up to it."

"Ah, you mean it's time for the big talk." He intoned with dramatic embellishment.  
  
"She wants to find out if you can be trusted, Michael."

"Trusted with what?" He deadpanned. "Her precious secret or her precious daughter?"

Sydney stuck out her tongue at him and he laughed. To Sydney's ears, there was no sweeter sound. "Both, I guess." She met his eyes with an anxious expression. "Are you going to be able to stand being in the same room with her without wanting to kill her?"

"Well, I've made it this far without snapping, but then again, I haven't been alone with her yet, so I don't know." Vaughn gave her a sober look. "I want her to pay for what she did to my father, Sydney, and I want to be the one to make her pay, but right now, it's all about getting her to trust me."

*     *     *     *     *

When Sydney and Vaughn returned to the house, Irina met them at the French doors that led into the game room.

"Hello there, did you have a nice walk?" Irina asked pleasantly.

"Yes," Sydney forced herself to smile. "It's lovely outside after the sun goes down and the breeze kicks up."

Her mother smiled. "Sydney, I was wondering if I might borrow Michael for a little while? We haven't had a chance to sit and talk since he's been here and I'd like to get to know him a little better."

Sydney looked questioningly at Vaughn, who had a noncommittal expression on his face. "It's fine with me, Irina." He said amiably.

"Well, okay, then I guess I'll leave the two of you alone." Sydney squeezed his hand and kissed him lightly on the lips. She gave her mother a brief smile and then left the room.

"Sit down, Michael." Irina said graciously, extending an arm towards the leather chairs by the fireplace. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine." Vaughn was surprised by a sudden attack of nerves. He had, of course, received CIA training in the fine art of interrogation, both as the interviewer and the interviewee, but with Irina, he felt as if he were traveling into uncharted waters. He didn't know what to expect from her or if he would be able to tell her what she wanted to hear.

"How are you feeling these days?" She asked solicitously. "Any aftereffects from your dreadful experience at the warehouse?"  
  


_At the warehouse where Sydney and I destroyed your precious Circumference, ruining months and months of work_? "I think I'm recovering rather nicely. I don't seem to have a problem taking showers and I even went into the pool today." He joked to ease the tension in the room.

Irina smiled. Sydney's young man was handsome and charming in a completely self-effacing manner, but she could tell there was also a sharp mind behind those good looks. She would sometimes watch him at the dinner table while her children bickered with each other, a keen interest and amusement in his eye. He handled Sergei's taunts without becoming rattled or upset, Irina noted with approval; his cool and composed demeanor would serve him well in a crisis.

Yet Irina knew he was not without emotion. He treated Sydney with a tender touch and showered her with unabashed adoration. Sydney had told her bits and pieces about their complicated relationship as agent and handler and while Irina was happy that her daughter had someone in her life who loved her truly and deeply, she was also a bit wary of him and wondered if Michael Vaughn was a man who would let his heart rule his head.

"Michael, I believe you know why I wanted to talk to you, but I will spell it out for you, anyway," Irina paused. "As you probably know, Sydney has agreed to stay and work with me."

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"What do you think about her decision?" She asked, keeping a watchful eye on him.

_Other than the fact that you forced her into it_? "I think it was a very difficult choice for her to make." Vaughn said slowly. "But Sydney has spent a good portion of her adult life following other people's orders. Now she wants to be in control of her own destiny and she believes she would have that with you."

"Do you approve of her conspiring with the enemy?" Irina raised an eyebrow.

Vaughn looked at her with a steady gaze. "She sees you as her mother, not her enemy."

"No, not _her_ enemy." Irina agreed. "But I am an enemy to her father and to the CIA." She gave him a pointed look. "And I know that loyalty cannot be turned off as easily as a light switch."

Was she referring to him as well as Sydney? "Sydney's main priority has always been to destroy SD-6." Vaughn replied. "The CIA wasn't accomplishing that as quickly as she had hoped, so she decided to turn to you because she wants to speed up the process and she knows you have the capabilities to do that."

Irina was silent for a long moment and Vaughn wondered what was going through her mind. Was he being convincing enough or would she just believe him because she was so desperate to have her daughter back in her life?

"You have given me Sydney's reasons for wanting to stay with me--all very valid points, I might add--but I want to know about your priorities, Michael." She finally spoke again. "Why should I allow you to join my organization as Sydney wants me to do? Why should I trust you?" Irina turned a piercing gaze on him.

Vaughn swallowed the huge lump in his throat. "I know Sydney has told you that my accompanying her to Taipei probably sealed my fate with my superiors at the CIA." He said somberly. "I have been on thin ice with them for awhile now and when they find out what I've done--if they haven't already--I know I will have nothing left to go back to."

"So you don't have a job to go home to." Irina said pitilessly. "I'm sure there are other things you could do."

"No." His voice was firm. "Being in the CIA was all I ever wanted to do." He would _not_ bring up the subject of his father to this woman; he would not tell her that honoring the name of William C. Vaughn was the sole reason why he had joined the CIA. "But if they don't want me, then I have no choice but to look elsewhere."

"And it doesn't bother you that I am working against the agency to whom you pledged your loyalty and devotion?" Irina prodded him.

"If that's the case, so be it." Vaughn said neutrally. "I no longer feel any allegiance to the CIA."

She gave him a speculative eye. He was saying all the right things. "Does the fact that Sydney wants you to stay with her also figure into your decision to turn your back on your former employers?"

He paused for a long moment before answering. "For the longest time, my job was the only thing in my life that mattered to me." Vaughn said quietly. "Then I met Sydney and everything that had seemed important before suddenly wasn't."

"Hmmm." Irina nodded. "You were Sydney's CIA case handler, weren't you?"

"Yes." He nodded.  
  


"It must have been very difficult trying to keep your feelings for each other from interfering with your work." She commented.

"We tried to keep things businesslike between the two of us." Vaughn acknowledged. "Sydney was better at it than I was. I was the one who struggled to keep my feelings in check."

Irina looked thoughtful. "You knew how…complicated it would be for the two of you to become involved with each other yet you still allowed it to happen." She said softly. "My question to you is why would you set yourself up like that? The potential for heartache is so great."

Vaughn remained quiet for a few moments, choosing his words wisely. "When I first met Sydney, she was a mess." He allowed himself a grin at the memory of the bedraggled young woman who had shown up unannounced in the CIA offices one day and then proceeded to change his life forever. "Her hair was dyed to the color of a really ripe tomato. One side of her face was swollen up to the point where she looked like a squirrel storing up nuts for the winter. Her makeup was smeared and streaked down her face."

"But she didn't care about any of that, how she looked or what we must have thought of her. She just came in, sat down and started writing." Vaughn's expression was serious. "When we read what she had gone through, we all thought she should have been an absolute basket case, but instead she came across as the most determined, most tenacious, most resilient person I had ever met."

"You appreciate competent women." Irina said approvingly.

"I do, but that's not what drew me to Sydney." He shook his head. "She has this tough, unrelenting side to her that can definitely be intimidating, but then there's this whole other side of her that is incredibly fragile and vulnerable. You think she might topple over the moment a gust of wind kicks up, but somehow you know she won't because she's so unbelievably strong." He suddenly felt shy for having waxed so poetic about Sydney, but Irina seemed to be touched by his words.

"Sydney is just a very…appealing combination of so many things and I don't think I ever had it in me to resist her even though I knew going in that we would have a rocky road ahead of us." He finished, feeling awkward. Vaughn wasn't quite sure why he was opening up to this woman. He hated her for tearing his family apart with an intensity that burned deep in his gut, but at that moment, she was simply a mother wanting to know of his intentions towards her daughter.

"You love her very much, Michael." Irina remarked rather than questioned.

"Yes, I do." He said simply.

"And you're willing to give up everyone and everything in your past life just to be with her?" She persisted.

"The life I had doesn't mean a damn to me if Sydney's not a part of it." Vaughn said earnestly. "These past few days have shown that to me. We want to be together, Irina, and we can have that if you allow it."

Irina struggled to remain unmoved by the young man's pleas. "If I agree to let you stay, Sydney has asked me if you could be her partner."

"I'm sure she's told you that we work well together." He put in.

"She tells me that you are very in tune with one another." Irina allowed herself a brief smile. "Michael, if the two of you found yourselves in a situation that became life-threatening, what would you do?"

"I would ensure that Sydney could get out of it before anything else." He said without hesitation.

"So you would never jeopardize her safety? Not even to save yourself?"

"Of course not." Vaughn said vehemently. "Sydney means everything to me and if I had to make a choice, I would always put her security and happiness before my own, no matter what the consequences." Even though he had expected to lie through his teeth to Irina, to tell her anything she wanted to hear, Vaughn was surprised to discover that he was telling her the absolute truth. He _would_ protect Sydney at all costs and he didn't give a damn if he suffered for it.

Irina remained silent as she contemplated. Michael had just stated quite convincingly that he would do anything for Sydney--even crossing over to the enemy camp--if it meant they could stay together. Were his fervent declarations of love and commitment enough to guarantee his abiding loyalty, not only to Sydney but also to Irina and her organization?

"I think I will let you stay, Michael." Irina said finally. "I'm sure you realize that you will still have to prove yourself to me, but for now, I believe your feelings for my daughter are the reason I can put my trust in you. If she is as devoted to me as you say, I know you would never do anything that would hurt her or her mother."

Vaughn slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding. "Thank you, Irina. I appreciate your faith in me." He said quietly.

Irina gave Vaughn a shrewd glance, just to show him she was still the boss and she was still in control. "It is in your best interests, Michael, to assure me that my faith and my trust have not been misplaced."

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Just a little P.S. to thank you for all the great feedback you've been giving me.  Your comments are **_really_** appreciated!

See ya later!


	10. A Father's Sacrifice

**Author's Note**: It's too bad Victor didn't win last night and I think Jennifer was totally **ROBBED**, but here's the next chapter, anyway.  Coincidentally, it's all about Sydney and Jack (which is how it should have been last night, stupid Emmy voters!).

No, I'm not bitter.  Just a little ticked off.

Anyway, if you've managed to sit through my ramblings, please take the time to let me know what you think of the latest chapter.  I freely admit I feed off of your reviews and I've kind of set a personal goal for myself now that we've reached the midpoint (I think) of the story.

Thanks for reading and see ya later!

*     *     *     *     *

The following evening, Irina gathered both of her children and Vaughn in the library to discuss her next move. Sydney and Vaughn sat side by side on the sofa while Sark sat sulking in the armchair, an ever-present drink in one hand and a curiously not-talked-about bandage on the other. Irina stood before them.

"I have given a great deal of thought to this and I have decided that it is time to get back to work." She announced.

"It's about time." Sark grumbled under his breath.

"All right." Sydney replied, a touch of apprehension coursing through her veins.

Irina had been pacing, but she stopped in front of Sydney. "I want Page 47 of the Rambaldi manuscript." She looked her daughter straight in the eye.

"And how do you propose to go about it?" She asked. Did Irina know the CIA was in possession of the page? Sydney was aware that her mother knew SD-6 had the book (because Sydney herself had snatched it from Irina's clutches), but she wasn't sure if Irina knew Sydney had stolen that particular page for the CIA.

Her next words provided Sydney with answers to her questions. "We know the CIA has the page and so we have proposed an exchange."  

_So the CIA mole strikes again_, Vaughn thought to himself. Before he and Sydney left here, they had to find out the identity of the mole, so that they could deal with the person once they got home.

"I have been in contact with your father--"

"_You what_?" Sydney blurted out sharply before she could stop herself. "You talked to Dad?"

"Not me personally." Irina amended, a coolness to her voice. She was aware that Sydney still held some loyalties to her father and those ties wouldn't be broken very easily no matter how much she wished for them to be. "But my subordinates have been in touch with him and we have arranged an exchange."

"What kind of exchange?" Sydney gave her a puzzled look. What did Irina have that would be of any interest to her father?

"I get Page 47 and your father gets to see you one last time." Her mother informed her with a self-satisfied look on her face.

Sydney was stunned. "Is that it?"

"Don't you think it's a fair trade?" Irina asked, arching an eyebrow.

She struggled to hide her impatience. "Mom, you're asking him to steal classified information from the CIA just so that he and I can have a father-daughter reunion?"

"You seem skeptical that he would agree to such a plan, Sydney." She commented blandly.

"With good reason, I think." She said slowly. "Why do you think he would commit a crime against his own government just to see me?"

Irina gave her an indulgent look. "Why, Sydney, I thought you knew by now that your father would do anything in the world for you." Her voice was light and musical, but she was feeling anything but happy-go-lucky. Irina did not like singing Jack's praises to Sydney for it only seemed to strengthen the bonds between them. _She_ wanted to be the only parental figure in her daughter's life, but she could see it was going to be an extremely slow process to wean Sydney away from her father's influence.

_Was that true_? Sydney wondered and she had to admit it would please her if Irina's assessment of her father's devotion to her were accurate. "Will Michael be with me when I meet him?" She asked, trying to keep the hopeful note out of her voice. Sark snorted at her naïveté and downed the rest of his drink. 

Irina narrowed her eyes slightly. "Sydney, do not underestimate me. I am afraid I don't trust you as much as a mother should trust her daughter and I know you feel the same way towards me." Sydney flushed at how insightful her mother was to her true feelings. "Think of this as a test."

She met Irina's gaze with an expression free of deceit. "I won't let you down."

*     *     *     *     *

The meeting was scheduled for two days hence. It would take place in a public square in the business district of Taipei. Irina, Sark and Vaughn would be in a limousine across the street while Sydney met with Jack to make the exchange. Irina had Sydney wear a two-way transmitter so that the occupants of the limo would be able to hear their entire conversation.

Sydney was tense as her mother went over her instructions. "Sydney, remember, you must not mention my name. If your father asks who is holding you, you will tell him it is The Man, who he assumes to be Khasinau."

"After you make the exchange, during which you will confirm the authenticity of the page, I will allow you a moment to say goodbye to your father." _How generous of you_, Sydney thought to herself wryly. "But you must not come within arm's distance of him. Do not attempt to make any physical contact."

Sydney frowned at her. "You're telling me this may be the last time I see my father and you won't even let me hug him goodbye?" Actually, she couldn't remember the last time she had hugged her father, but that was beside the point. She just hated that Irina was trying to control her every action and emotion.

"I would not put it past your father to spirit you away if he gets the opportunity." Irina said brusquely. "Therefore, I have employed the services of a few sharpshooters, who will have their weapons trained on you and your father. You will be meeting in a public square, Sydney. If Jack tries to grab you, they will shoot and I can't guarantee that innocent people won't be hurt." She said ominously.

_Leave it to my mother to turn a warm and fuzzy family reunion into a bloodbath_. "Fine." Sydney said resignedly. "Whatever you say."

The limo ride into the city took just under an hour. As they drove through the city streets, Sydney and Vaughn couldn't help but try to take in all the unfamiliar sounds and sights around them, for they had been isolated from civilization for over a week now and they craved sensory stimulation from anything other than the people sitting in the limo with them.

The limo pulled next to the curb in a busy section of the financial district. Sydney saw the square across the street with its park benches and pigeons and the spouting marble fountain in the center of the square. She was dismayed to see the multitude of people, either rushing about or just relaxing, especially the small children feeding the pigeons by the fountain. There was no way she could try anything, not with all those people around.

"Syd?" Vaughn's hesitant voice interrupted her thoughts. She had not yet made a move to exit the vehicle.

She looked at him and smiled. She put a hand to his face and pressed her cheek against his, not wanting Sark or her mother to see them express any other kind of affection towards each other.

"I believe your father is waiting, Sydney." Irina said, keeping her voice neutral.

"All right." Sydney got out of the limo, smoothed the jacket of her lightweight suit and headed across the street.

"Please say something so that we can hear you, Sydney." She heard Irina's voice in her earpiece.

"My feet hurt in these shoes." Sydney muttered.

She heard Irina's throaty laugh. "Then we will have to buy you a new pair."

_Sure, buy me some new pumps and that'll make up for everything_. Sydney's heart caught in her throat as she saw the familiar figure standing with his back to her as she neared the fountain. She recognized the graying hair and the ever-present black Burberry trench coat and she nearly stumbled.

"Dad?" Her voice came out strangled and was barely above a whisper, but he still heard her.

When Jack Bristow saw his daughter for the first time in over a week, he felt his body sag with relief. The hours that turned into days of not knowing what had happened to her, if she were even still alive, had been absolute torture for him.

"Sydney!" He started for her and then stopped. She appeared in good health, but her expression was oddly reticent. This wasn't his Sydney, his little girl who wore her pain and hurt so palpably on her face.

They faced each other more than two arm's lengths apart. "Are you all right?" was the first question out of her father's mouth and it touched her.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Did they hurt you?" He would hunt them down if they had harmed a hair on her head.

"No, I've been treated very well." She was choosing her words carefully and he noticed.

"You're wired?"

Her eyes flickered. "Yes."

"Where is he?" Jack's tone was sharp. "Khasinau?"

"He's close by." She replied vaguely. "Dad, I have so many things to ask you and I don't know how much time I have." Her words came out in a rush. "How is Will? Is he all right?" In the car, Sark smirked at Vaughn, hoping to elicit a jealous reaction. Vaughn ignored him.

"He's back home and he is recovering physically, at least." Jack acknowledged. "As you might expect, Mr. Tippin's life has changed dramatically." He could not go into all the details with her, seeing as how he did not want the information to be transmitted back to Khasinau. 

She gave her father a guilty look. "Tell him I'm sorry." Her voice was pleading. Jack nodded.

"What about Francie?"

"She thinks you're on an extended European business trip for the bank."

"Does she believe that I would be away for this amount of time without calling her?" Her tone was skeptical.

"You are keeping in touch with her through email as well as postcards." Jack replied briskly.

Sydney had to grin. "Pretty good trick, Dad."

Jack's lips quirked. "In any case, she is busy with her restaurant dealings, so she has a lot on her plate right now."

"And Dixon? Has he talked yet?"

"I convinced Dixon not to do anything until he talked to you." Her father informed her. "I told him that as your partner, he at least owed you that much and he agreed not to go to Security Section until he spoke to you. Of course, what he didn't know was that you would be headed off on a three-week vacation to a destination where you couldn't be reached."

"Dad, he'll think I'm trying to stall him." She pointed out unnecessarily.

"Nevertheless, he gave me his word and you know he will keep it." Jack replied in an abrupt manner.

Sydney nodded, preparing herself for her last and hardest questions. "Dad, where does Sloane think I am and what does he think I've been doing?" Some of the anxiety she was feeling crept into her voice.

"He doesn't even know you've been gone." Jack shook his head.

Sydney stared at her father. "What do you mean he doesn't know? He certainly wouldn't buy the same story you're feeding Francie and he knows he didn't approve a vacation for me!"

"Sloane doesn't know you haven't been to work because he hasn't been to work." Jack told her and the expression on his face grew somber. "Sydney, Emily Sloane died the night you disappeared."

"Oh, no!" Sydney's eyes filled with tears. She silently cursed her mother for preventing her from being at Emily's bedside in her hour of need. "Emily didn't look well the last time I saw her in the hospital. I guess her body could no longer fight off the cancer." She said sadly.

Jack's face took on a guarded expression. "Emily's cancer was in remission, Sydney."

"I don't understand." Sydney frowned and then the realization suddenly dawned on her. She looked at her father in horror. "Dad, did Sloane--you're not saying he--because she knew about SD-6…" Her voice trailed off, unable to finish the abhorrent thought.

"I'm not saying anything, Sydney. Just the facts." Her father said cryptically. "In any case, Sloane is on an extended leave of absence. No one knows when he'll be back."

"Didn't he notice I wasn't at the funeral?"

"He wasn't noticing much at all that day." Jack shook his head. "Not to diminish Emily's passing, but it was a fortunate break for us that it happened when it did. It focused Sloane's attentions elsewhere, so you will be able to return without any difficult questions from him." Jack glanced around and lowered his voice. "Come along, Sydney, I think we can make a break for it and I have a car waiting nearby." He took a step towards her. 

"Dad, I can't!" Sydney backed away from her father's grasp and Jack stopped in his tracks.

"What do you mean you can't?" Jack said brusquely.

"Dad, there are snipers trained on us." She said grimly. "If you try to force me to go with you, they will shoot and they don't care who they hit."

Sydney could see the wheels turning in her father's brain as he contemplated the risks. Then a look of resignation passed over Jack's face and he swore under his breath. "Very well." He said quietly and then opened his briefcase to extract a cardboard tube. "This is what he wanted?" Jack removed the cap from the tube and unrolled the parchment so that Sydney could see that it was indeed the real thing. Every time she saw the portrait of that woman who looked so much like her, it tugged at her insides.

Sydney nodded in satisfaction and her father proceeded to re-roll the parchment. "Dad, what is Devlin going to say when he finds out you took that?"

"These were extenuating circumstances, Sydney." Her father's voice was curt. "I had no choice."

"Dad, they won't view what you did as a necessary course of action." Her eyes were troubled. "You did it for purely personal reasons."

"I'm prepared for whatever consequences may arise, Sydney." Jack said staunchly.

Sydney had always found her father's stiff and starched demeanor to be at times alternately frustrating and infuriating. He never showed his emotions and he was always so hard to read. It was what made him such an accomplished and invaluable agent, even though it didn't exactly foster a hugs-and kisses paternal relationship with his daughter. But at least it was something she could count on and at a time like this, Sydney found his manner oddly comforting.

"Dad, you did it for me and that means more to me than you'll ever know." At that moment, Sydney wanted to fling herself into her father's arms and she would have had it not been for Irina's orders. She almost giggled when she thought of the utterly shocked expression her father would have on his face if she threw her arms around him. Did they even know how to hug each other anymore? 

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn't respond because he didn't know what to say. "Sydney, we went back to look for you at the warehouse when you never showed up at the airport." It was imperative to Jack that she know he hadn't abandoned her.

"I know you did, Dad." There had never been a question in her mind.

"We also looked for Agent Vaughn." Jack looked pained. "Sydney, I don't know if I should tell you this, but we never found him, either." Her father gave her an aggrieved look and Sydney was grateful that he had tried to soften the blow for her.

Her face broke out into a reassuring smile. "Oh, Dad, it's all right. Michael is with me."

"He is?" Jack looked stunned, but remained cognizant enough to realize that Sydney had called her handler by his given name for the first time that he could remember. "We told his mother he was MIA…" His voice trailed off. In the car, Vaughn cringed.

"Dad, you have to tell her he's alive." Sydney said urgently. "Please, the first chance you get, you have tell her he's fine."

Jack nodded. "So Khasinau has him, too?"

"Yes." She replied softly. "And that's another reason why I can't leave with you." The look she gave her father spoke volumes. Jack was surprised to see the depth of feeling in her expression. Somehow their relationship of agent and handler had been altered irreversibly.

"I see." Jack uttered, knowing there was nothing more to say on the subject.

There was a crackling in her ear. "Sydney, I think it is time for you to say your goodbyes." Irina had heard enough.

Sydney winced. _No, you're not giving me enough time_! "Dad, I have to go now."

"So soon?"

She nodded, bowing her head so that he wouldn't see her break down. "Dad, our relationship has never been easy. We both went into a reclusive shell after Mom left and we lost a lot of time that could have been spent building a solid, loving relationship with each other."

"It was my fault, Sydney--"

"No, it was my fault, too." She cut him off gently. "For the longest time, I didn't think you cared about me and I resented you for that. I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong to make you push me away."

"You were a child. You didn't understand."

"I'm not a child anymore, Dad." Her eyes were bright but no tears fell as she looked at him. "Explain it to me."

Jack hesitated a few moments before speaking. "The choices I made while you were growing up--not being around, not telling you the truth about what I was really doing, having your nanny virtually raise you--they were made because I knew I wouldn't have been a very good father to you at that time." He said remorsefully. "I was having…difficulties dealing with your mother's death and I thought the best thing I could do for you was to stay away."

"Unfortunately, by the time I was ready to handle being a father again, it was too late." Jack looked regretful. "There were too many missed dance recitals and soccer games and graduations."

"You didn't miss my graduation, Dad." Sydney reminded him with a little smile.

"No, but I almost did and that's inexcusable." Her father lowered his eyes. "I've failed you as a father, haven't I, Sydney? I tried to protect you from this ugly business your entire life, but you got drawn into it, anyway." He looked disgusted with himself.

"Dad, no!" Sydney protested. "I've been making my own decisions for awhile now and if I've been hurt by them, it's my own fault. You certainly can't be blamed for the choices I've made."

"You have to know that I never wanted this kind of life for you, Sydney, because I know all too well how it encompasses your whole existence." Jack said quietly. "I wish to God that you could have a normal life, get married, buy a house, have children."

"Well, we both know none of that is going to be happening any time soon." She said ruefully. "But just knowing that my happiness is important to you means a lot, Dad, and I'm very glad you told me how you feel."

"That's all a parent ever wants for his children, Sydney." Her father's voice cracked even as he struggled to maintain his air of reserve. "You'll realize that when you have children of your own."

When Sydney thought to herself that her father might never get to see her children, it became too much for her to bear. "Oh, Daddy!" She threw herself into his chest and felt his arms wrap around her in a protective manner.

"Hold your fire!" Irina shouted into her walkie-talkie.

"I knew she couldn't be trusted." Sark sneered.

"She's saying goodbye to her father!" Vaughn barked at him, giving the younger man a thunderous look.

"Use this as soon as you can." Her father whispered into her ear. Sydney felt him slip something into her jacket pocket.

"I love you, Dad." Sydney said fiercely, pulling away from their embrace before her mother went crazy.

The surprise on her father's face was clearly evident as he let her words sink into his brain. He and Sydney had never been overly demonstrative in showing their affection towards one another, at least not since she was a child before Laura left them. He was the type of person who had never felt comfortable in outwardly displaying his emotions, especially to the people closest to him. Some of the blame could be placed at Laura's feet and he supposed he had also transferred some of that culpability to Sydney as well, who was a constant reminder that the one time he did let down his guard, he got burned for it.

But Sydney's unforeseen exodus from his life left a surprisingly large hole in his heart. He had never realized just how much he had come to depend on seeing her everyday, if only to remind himself why he continued to live the dangerous life of a double agent. It was not for his own personal satisfaction that he wanted to destroy Sloane and SD-6 (although it would feel good to stick it to the smarmy weasel for all the times he had taunted Jack with his overly paternal feelings towards Sydney). No, it was all to ensure the safety and future happiness of his little girl.

Was her father pleased by her declaration? It was hard to tell beneath that aloof exterior, but Sydney thought she might have detected the briefest of smiles tugging at his mouth.

She tried to put on a brave face for him. "I just wanted you to know that since it appears we won't be seeing each other again."

Her father's eyes hardened. "Sydney, don't say that." He admonished her.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but that's just the reality of the situation." She felt the tears prickling again at the backs of her eyes, even though she didn't really believe what she was saying. She _would_ see her father again; not even Irina would be able to prevent that.

"Goodbye, Dad." Sydney picked up the canister and turned on her heel without a backwards glance.

She thrust her hand into her pocket as she walked away. Her fingers closed around a small vial. The radioactive isotopes. _Good old Dad_.

The door to the limo opened for her as she neared. The moment she was safely inside, it took off. Sydney sat back in her seat next to Vaughn and faced her mother. Irina did not look happy that Sydney had actively defied her instructions.

"Have a problem following orders, Sis?" Sark snarled at her.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Sydney retorted venomously. "Maybe you can't understand this--being the spawn of the Devil and all--but I actually love _my _father."

"Sydney!" Irina scolded her. "Sergei is right to call you on this. You deliberately disobeyed me." Her eyes glittered angrily.

Sydney flushed. "You said this would be the last time I ever saw him." She said through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry if you feel I went against your orders, but I had to go to him. I had to let him know how I felt."

"Yes, we all heard the nauseatingly heartfelt speeches you and Daddy gave each other." Sark said mockingly.

"Do you want to can it with the nasty remarks?" Vaughn fixed a threatening glare at Sark. The younger man gave Vaughn a surly look, but he backed off.

Sydney gave Vaughn's hand a grateful squeeze. "Mom," She forced herself to speak in a moderate tone, so as not to sound rebellious or antagonistic. "Please don't be mad at me for what I did. Just think about what you would have done if it had been your father." Sydney blatantly tugged at Irina's heartstrings. She knew her mother had adored her own father, Sydney's grandfather.

Irina's face remained impassive for a few moments, but then Sydney saw her steely gaze slowly begin to soften. "If I had been in your place, I would not have been able to resist one last embrace from my father." She said finally.

"I will let your lapse in judgment pass this one time, Sydney, but from now on, I will expect your loyalty and your compliance in all matters." Her mother gave her an imperious look.

Sydney was the picture of acquiescence. "You shall have it, Mom."

_To be continued_…


	11. Digging Up A Mole

Over the next few days, Sydney went out of her way to appease her mother by any means possible. She willingly agreed to gab sessions or chess games or time spent lounging by the pool. They talked and laughed like two best girlfriends and all of this forced togetherness began to take its toll on Sydney. Yes, she was still angry with her mother for all of her transgressions against her father and Vaughn and herself and she would never forget her heinous acts.

But to her chagrin, she was also beginning to see Irina's side of the story. The more she listened to her mother, the more she was able to get a sense of Irina's strong-willed single-mindedness, her isolation, her fears and even her pain. It didn't sit well with Sydney when she actually started to feel sorry for her mother. It wasn't so much that she wanted to hold on to the fury and rage within her (after all, who wanted to live with so much pent-up anger?) as much as it was a desperate attempt to keep her mind clear and focused on her true objective. She wasn't there to repair her relationship with her mother and she didn't want her growing empathy for Irina to distract her from her main goal, which was to figure out a way for her and Vaughn to escape.

On the eleventh day of their imprisonment, Irina called another meeting in the library. It was the same cast of characters and they even sat in the same places, although Sydney noted with some interest that Sark was without the shot glass that seemed to have been permanently attached to his hand. Perhaps Irina had spoken to him about his excessive drinking or else he was feeling the need to be clear-headed for some other odd reason. Now that he was no longer intoxicated most of the time, Sark had been almost pleasant to her ever since they got back from the city to see her father and naturally it made her suspicious. She wondered if he was plotting something.

"Sydney, Michael, I've decided to send you out on your first mission." Irina announced.

Sydney put a pleased look on her face. "I'm anxious to get back to work." She said convincingly.

"Well, I hope you will be up to the challenge." Irina pressed a button on the remote control she was holding. The lights in the room dimmed. A second click and a sleek silver plasma screen started to come down from the ceiling. As the screen was making its descent, Irina walked over to the computer on her desk, made a few clicks with her mouse and a painting of an old man with a gray beard suddenly appeared on the screen before them.

"You are looking at a self-portrait of Milo Rambaldi." Irina declared. "It is an painting he began around 1492 and was completed less than nine months before his death."

"Do any of you know the story behind _The Blue Boy_ by Sir Thomas Gainsborough?" As she uttered those words, Irina realized how professorial she sounded and had a sudden flashback to the long-forgotten period in her life when she had spent most of her time in a college lecture hall. Of course, back then, her subject had been English Lit and not Art History.

Vaughn spoke up. "I think I read somewhere that the painting had been x-rayed for some reason or another and that's when it was discovered that Gainsborough had initially portrayed the boy with a dog by his side, but in the finished portrait, the dog had been painted over."

"Very good, Michael." Irina praised him. Vaughn cut his eyes over at Sydney, who gave him a teasing smirk for playing teacher's pet. "Rambaldi also painted over something in his self-portrait, not because he didn't like it but because he was trying to hide it." Irina clicked at her computer again and the picture disappeared from the monitor. Soon after, the plasma screen began to rise and the lights came on again.

"So you want us to get the portrait." Sydney surmised.

"Yes." Her mother replied. "We believe the information encoded in the painting relates to The Circumference, so naturally it would be very valuable to us."

"All right." Sydney nodded. "So where is it?"

Irina moved from the desk to take a seat in the wing chair opposite Sark. "It is located in an underground vault in Vatican City." She told them.

"The Vatican?" Sydney repeated slowly. _Well, at least it would be familiar_, she thought to herself.

"It shouldn't be such a hard task for the two of you considering that it won't be your first time." Irina said coolly, her eyebrow raised.

Sydney and Vaughn exchanged glances. Jack and Devlin were the only people who knew what they had done when they were trying to save Sydney from the Prophecy witch hunt. How could Irina have found out?

There was no way they could deny it. "How do you know about that?" Vaughn inquired with a curious frown.

Irina gave him a brief smile. "Although you probably wouldn't have wanted to hear this when you were still working for them, I can tell you that the security precautions the CIA has in place leaves much to be desired. It was not at all difficult for one of our operatives to infiltrate the agency, a measure which provides us with access to very important and useful information." Irina had a self-satisfied expression on her face.

"Who is it?" Sydney asked, upset that such a thing could happen so easily.

"Why do you want to know?" Sark interjected suspiciously. "Do you want to out our agent as a mole to your former employers in some way?"

Before Sydney could fire off an angry rebuttal, Irina stepped in. "Sergei, it is a valid question." She said mildly. "Sydney and Michael are our comrades now and there does not need to be any secrets among us."

She turned to Sydney. "I have never dealt personally with the man because I needed to protect my cover, but Khasinau has maintained contact with him for the better part of two years." A thoughtful look came to her face. "Although now that we are talking about it, I remember reading something in Khasinau's latest intel about how he has not heard from our informer for over a week now, so there is a possibility that the man is no longer…around." Irina said euphemistically.

"In any case, if the man is gone, there would be no harm in telling you." She gave an indifferent shrug. "His name is--or maybe was--Stephen Haladki."

Vaughn couldn't help the gasp that escaped from his lips. _That lousy son of a bitch_! He should have known The Weasel hadn't come by his nickname on looks alone. To think that he was the bastard who sold Sydney out to the Feds, who almost had her locked up for life after contributing to the feeding frenzy surrounding the whole Prophecy debacle…

At that particular moment, Vaughn could have cheerfully strangled the man without feeling a moment's remorse, but according to Irina, it was possible that somebody had already had the pleasure of doing so. Well, it didn't matter. If Haladki was still around when he got back to town, Vaughn would take sheer delight in shoving his traitorous black heart out of his ass.

"You are familiar with the man, Michael?" Irina turned her attention to him.

"We clashed a few times." Vaughn admitted.

"On Sydney's behalf, if I'm recalling correctly from Khasinau's reports." Sark had to put his two cents in.

"Yes, now that you mention it, Sergei, I seem to recollect something in one of his communiqués about Mr. Haladki having some difficulty with Sydney's handler and also with a man he referred to as his sidekick." Irina gave Vaughn a questioning look. "I believe he was your partner, wasn't he? An Agent Weiss?"

Vaughn winced inwardly. He hardly wanted to make Eric a target by acknowledging that they were partners as well as friends (the "sidekick" reference was a dead giveaway to their relationship), but unfortunately, he couldn't get out of not answering her questions. Not if he wanted to make her believe he had put that life behind him.

"Uh, yes, both Agent Weiss and myself were not fond of the man." He acknowledged, managing to keep the reluctance out of his voice.

"Were you suspicious of him?" She pressed him.

"Stephen Haladki is a pompous, sanctimonious ass who deserves to be shot for what he did to Sydney, but I didn't know he was your mole, if that's what you're asking." Vaughn replied, a bit testily.

"Can we please stop talking about unimportant things and get back to the mission?" Sydney suddenly interrupted, wanting to take the heat off of Vaughn.

"Don't fret, Sydney." Irina chastised her mildly. "I was not interrogating Michael. I was merely trying to deduce if our agents were calling undue attention to themselves by incurring feelings of hostility from the people they should be trying to win over."

Sydney turned pink and changed the subject back to the mission at hand. Irina let the matter pass and started to go over the mission specs.

As he watched his mother and his sister go over the details of the operation, Sark couldn't help but feel the bitter pangs of jealousy deep within his gut. Sydney was quickly worming her way into becoming Irina's primary confidante and he now knew it was just a matter of time before she would be entrusted with the keys to the kingdom. Sydney was Irina's firstborn, the apple of her mother's eye, her golden child. _What chance do I have against someone so obviously destined for greatness_? He thought to himself resentfully.

The thought of Sydney being in control of his mother's vast empire filled him with dread. Sark knew that once Sydney took over he would be cast aside like yesterday's newspaper. Sydney and her besotted boyfriend would probably get married, have a passel of brats and he would never get any closer to the seat of power than as nasty Uncle Sergei. Of course, Sydney wouldn't completely denigrate him (mustn't antagonize Mummy, you know), but she would probably force him into doing the menial work, the tasks best suited to their hired thugs, men who were huge in size but severely lacking when it came to brainpower.

_Damn it, he was better than that_! He did not deserve to be tossed casually aside as if he were worthless and unimportant. He had given his life over to his mother and to the organization. They owed him more respect. _She_ owed him more respect, not to mention the power and the glory and the sheer rush of adrenaline that went along with being the boss.

"Sergei? Sergei, are you listening to me?"

Sark was abruptly brought out of his thoughts by his mother's voice. "Yes, Mother?" He shook his head to clear it and looked around the room. He and Irina were now alone.

"Are you all right?" She asked with concern in her voice. "You looked rather distracted as we were wrapping things up."

_Wonderful, now she thinks I'm bored and disinterested_ _by her business plans_. "I'm fine, Mother." Sark pasted a smile on his face. "It's probably just the heat that's getting to me. When you're used to the cold and rain of England, anyplace over 70 degrees is positively stifling." He said jokingly.

"Poor dear." Irina came over to him and sat down on the arm of his chair. He felt her hand ruffle the hair on the back of his head with an affectionate pat.

"You know, we have been here for awhile now." He went on. "Maybe it is time we moved on." Sark turned his face to look up at her.

Irina's face lit up and Sark was momentarily overjoyed that he had done something to please her. "Oh, Sergei, you and I are so in tune. I was thinking the exact same thing!"

"You were?" All joking aside, he was actually dying to get away from Taipei's hot, humid climate. He preferred to be someplace where they weren't so isolated from civilization and all of the pleasures it had to offer. Perhaps they could head to the French Riviera (for the casinos) or maybe to Rio (for the women, of course).

"Yes, dear. I was thinking of going home." She announced happily. "To Moscow."

Sark's face fell and his eyes darkened. If she wanted to go to Moscow, that could only mean one thing.

"You want to see the Council." He said flatly.

"Well, of course!" Irina nodded enthusiastically. "I want to introduce Sydney to them."

His blood began to boil. _And just how are you going to introduce her, Mother_? _As your long-lost daughter or as your much-celebrated successor_?

"What do you say we go after the mission to the Vatican has been concluded?" Irina babbled on, oblivious to her son's increasingly frustrated rage. "I know you're going off on your reconnaissance and then Sydney and Michael will leave a few days after, but I can spend the time to close up the house here and then I can meet all of you in Moscow."

"I have been feeling a little restless myself, so maybe it is a good time to leave." She looked thoughtful. "Besides, I have a feeling Jack is still somewhere lurking in Taipei and I would like to get Sydney as far away from him as I can."

Something about her comment created a sudden stirring in his brain. "Mr. Bristow is very devoted to Sydney, isn't he?" Sark said in a noncommittal tone of voice.

"He's completely devoted, although you'd never know it by his demeanor." Irina replied with a roll of her eyes. "That has always been Jack's problem. He has such a hard time expressing himself that it makes people think he doesn't care about them. I was able to get him to open up to me, but it was not an easy task by any means."

"Sydney gets through to him, too, Mother." He pointed out to her. "We heard that in their conversation together."

"Yes," Irina said sourly. "She didn't always know she had the power to do that, but Jack was very clever in letting her know how he feels about her." She sighed. "It will probably take me weeks to undo the damage he's done."

"Damage?"

"I am just beginning to break down her walls, Sergei. She is starting to believe in me, to trust me." Irina's mouth quirked. "And then Jack had to swoop in and he said all the right things to tug at her heartstrings and now she is torn between her loyalty to him and her loyalty to me." She grimaced. "In retrospect, I probably never should have allowed that meeting to take place."

Irina let out another sigh. "Oh, well, I will just have to work Sydney a little harder."

Sark was no longer listening to her. A plan began to take shape in his mind. Unfortunately, he had only a few days in which to plot and scheme, but if he was successful, it could be the answer to his prayers. _But if he wasn't_…well, he just wouldn't allow himself to fail. This was too important to his future.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mother, but I need to go check on a few things before I leave." Sark stood up and dutifully kissed his mother's cheek. "We'll talk later?" He inquired of her, knowing they never would, not with Sydney around to completely monopolize Irina's attentions.

"Of course, dear." She gave him a warm smile, clueless to the fact that her son was about to destroy her world.

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Yay, only two more days until the premiere! 

That is all.

Oh, yeah, thanks for reading.  I know there wasn't much action in this one, but it's setting up for what is to come.  Next chapter to come by Sunday (another yay!) if I'm feeling inspired.

See ya later!


	12. Dog Tired

**Author's Note**: Eeek!  I didn't expect Weiss to take a bullet!  Not when he's the star of my latest chapter!  All I can say is that I hope he's okay because I love his character and Vaughn needs someone he can cry in his beer to about Sydney.

P.S. If you know anything about Weiss, don't tell me because I'm trying to stay relatively spoiler-free.

Oh, and I love love love that scene outside after Syd rescued Vaughn.  His smile was adorable!

Anyway, here you go with the next chapter.  Please let me know what you think by leaving me a review!

*     *     *     *     *

Eric Weiss was not having a good day. It started off badly when his alarm clock didn't go off, which in turn caused him to oversleep, which in turn caused him to be late for work. Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem because he was a master at sneaking into the office on those occasions when he was tardy.

But today he arrived at CIA Headquarters still a bit groggy (he'd only managed to get in a few hours of shut-eye even with the oversleeping), so he didn't even notice when he drove into the parking garage and pulled into the spot right next to Devlin, who had just arrived himself. That led to an hour-long dressing-down in the Director's office about late nights, sloppy paperwork and his general lack of focus these past few weeks. Weiss took his boss' harangue in meek silence. He knew he deserved Devlin's criticisms (and probably a whole lot more) and while the Director cut him some slack because he understood why Weiss was behaving in this manner, he didn't mince words, either.

After Devlin's tirade was over, Weiss was sent to his office, where he proceeded to do what he had been doing ever since Vaughn disappeared, namely brooding and experiencing extreme pangs of guilt over what he had done to his partner.

It had been worse in the beginning when it appeared Vaughn had been left for dead in Taipei. Weiss became distraught at the news of his friend's death. His colleagues expressed their sorrow to him and he bit their heads off. One of the secretaries started cleaning out Vaughn's office and Weiss had charged in like a bull in a china shop, yelling that nothing was to be touched. 

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't his fault what happened to Vaughn. It had been his choice to go with Sydney to Taipei and Weiss knew he couldn't have talked him out of going even if he'd known about it.

But the point was that he hadn't known. After finding out that Weiss had snitched to Devlin and Haladki about Sydney's plan to rescue Will Tippin, Vaughn had reacted by keeping his mouth shut in regard to the details of the rescue effort. It nearly killed Weiss to think that Vaughn's last memory of him was as a backstabbing, untrustworthy ratfink.

But then word came from Jack Bristow that Vaughn and Sydney were both alive and well, but unfortunately being held captive by The Man. Weiss had been overjoyed to find out that they had both survived their ordeal and waited eagerly to hear about the rescue operation, but after a week, no plans were forthcoming. It was an exercise in futility, they said, because no one had any idea where they were.

The guilt and frustration set in even deeper. What was the fucking CIA good for if they couldn't even find and recover two of their own? 

Weiss suddenly threw his pen across the room and sat back in his faux leather chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. What he wouldn't do for a good six hours of uninterrupted sleep!

Unfortunately, that was impossible considering the holy terror who was currently taking up residence in his apartment. 

When Vaughn hadn't returned when he was supposed to, the people at the kennel where Donovan had been staying called the office. Since all of Vaughn's calls were now being re-routed to Weiss (the two of them being partners and all), he was the one who answered the phone when the woman from Pinky's Pet Palace called, asking if Mr. Vaughn was going to be in any time soon to collect his bulldog. Weiss experienced a modicum of hurt when he found out _he_ hadn't been the one Vaughn turned to when he needed someone to take care of Donovan, but Weiss knew he had no one but himself to blame for the snub.

So he did what any good friend would have done. He went and picked up Donovan and took him back to his place, hoping that his good deed would assuage some of the guilt he was still feeling. It turned out to be one of the worst mistakes of his life.

During his previous visits to Weiss' abode, Donovan had been the perfect houseguest. The squat little dog slept all day, ate everything in his dog dish and dutifully went out for a walk every morning and every evening without fail. Sometimes Weiss would come home to find Donny in the same spot he had been in when he left and he would wonder to himself if the dog had even moved all day.

But this time around was a hellish nightmare. Weiss was afraid that Donovan had somehow sensed he had been abandoned by his beloved owner and was now taking it out on his hapless temporary guardian.

One day, Weiss came home to find the throw pillows on his couch ripped to shreds. Another time, Donovan managed to knock over his dry dog food bag and it scattered all across the kitchen floor into every nook and cranny (he just _knew_ there were still some random nuggets under the refrigerator, but he sure as hell wasn't going to put his back out trying to move it). That little mishap led to a late-night trip to the only pet store that was open until 10:00 pm (a good 25 miles away from his apartment) because Donovan certainly wasn't going to eat _dirty_ dog food pellets and how dare Weiss try to feed them to him!

And it didn't stop there. There was the mysterious wet spot on the carpet that Weiss later discovered to be a spilled can of beer he had left on the coffee table (_Thank God_!). The bed pillows that smelled like dog drool (_Ugh_!). The little bits of hair he would find on his good suits (_How on earth could a dog with such short hair be shedding_?).

Nights were the worst. Weiss had let Donovan sleep on his bed when he'd stayed over before and the little dog would sleep at the foot of the bed until morning without fuss. Now he let out a plaintive howl whenever the lights went out. Weiss tried earplugs but then he couldn't hear his alarm, which caused him to oversleep and the whole vicious cycle just started all over again.

So that's why he was sitting at his desk massaging his forehead when he was supposed to be re-doing some of his "sloppy paperwork." He could feel the throbbing of a headache coming on, so when the phone on his desk rang with a rather shrill buzz, there was a definite bark in his voice as he answered the phone (_Damn it, Donovan was rubbing off on him_!).

"Yes?" He growled into the receiver.

If the person on the other end of the line was taken aback by the brusque greeting, it wasn't apparent by the tone of their voice. "Agent Eric Weiss?" came over the line in a robotic-sounding lilt.

_What the hell? _People didn't normally use voice distortion boxes in everyday life, so it didn't take a hammer to knock him upside the head that something about the call was not exactly kosher. Weiss immediately pushed a few buttons on the phone console to set up a recorder and a tracer on his phone line.

"Who wants to know?" Weiss asked, a bit belligerently.

"You really don't need to be concerned about my identity."

Weiss was in no mood to play games. It was probably just the op tech guys playing a prank on him. "Then I also don't need to be concerned about why you're calling, do I?" He was about to hang up the phone when his anonymous caller threw out something sure to capture his attention.

"Does the name Michael Vaughn mean anything to you? Or perhaps Sydney Bristow?"

Weiss was instantly on alert. "Who is this? Do you know anything about them?" He said urgently.

"I know where they're going to be two days from now."

"Where?"

"Italy." There was a slight pause. "The Vatican, specifically."

"And just why should I trust this information is legitimate?" Weiss asked warily.

"Well, that's going to have to be your call, isn't it? Good day, Agent Weiss." The mysterious caller clicked off.

Weiss removed the tape from his machine and then put in a call to the Communications department. "This is Eric Weiss. Did you get a read on that tracer I just activated?"

He could hear the technician tapping away at his keyboard. "I'm afraid you weren't on the line long enough for us to trace the number, Agent Weiss, but we did manage to place the origin of the call to Taipei, Taiwan."

Weiss felt a chill go down his spine. _Taipei_. Where Vaughn and Sydney disappeared. It couldn't be a coincidence. "Thanks." Weiss hung up the phone and headed for Devlin's office, tape in hand.

Devlin's secretary wasn't at her desk, so he had to knock rather than be announced. He barely gave Devlin any time to say "Come in!" before he barged into the office.

The CIA Director looked vaguely annoyed to see Weiss, but it wasn't anything personal. The younger man was a good agent, but he had let his partner's disappearance take hold of his insides and it was affecting his performance at work. It was understandable, of course; Weiss and Vaughn were friends as well as partners. But these younger agents had to learn to separate their emotions from their jobs.

"Weiss, I thought you were going to try to clean up your act." Devlin raised an eyebrow.

"I am, Sir."

"Then what are you doing in my office a mere forty-five minutes after our talk?"

"Sir, I just received a call regarding Agent Vaughn and Agent Bristow." Weiss explained patiently.

Devlin's expression changed quickly from exasperation to intense interest. "Did you trace the call? Could you identify the voice?"

"No, Sir, I don't know who it was. They used a voice distortion box, so I don't know if it was a man or a woman." He shook his head. "We were, however, able to trace the origin of the call to Taipei."

Devlin's eyes flickered. "Go on. What did they say?"

"The person told me Vaughn and Bristow were going to be at the Vatican two days from now." Weiss informed him.

"The Vatican?" Devlin recalled Sydney Bristow's recent troubles regarding the Rambaldi Prophecy when she had had to make an unofficially sanctioned break-in into the underground vaults of the Vatican in a desperate attempt to clear her name. "Does this have to do with Rambaldi?"

"I don't know. The caller didn't say." He handed Devlin the tape. "I made a tape of the conversation, Sir, if you want to have some analysis done."

Devlin gave him a look of approval. "Quick thinking, Weiss, good job. I'll have extra copies made and think about our next move." Devlin made it clear by his tone of voice that Weiss was now dismissed.

Weiss, however, didn't move. "Sir, you are going to act on this tip, aren't you?"

Devlin looked up. "I don't know, Weiss. If this is on the level, Vaughn and Bristow appear to be working for The Man now."

"Not by choice, Sir!" He protested. "Jack Bristow confirmed this when he met with Sydney."

"I _know_, Agent Weiss." Devlin's voice held a bit of impatience. "I wasn't implying that Agent Vaughn or Agent Bristow had become turncoats. It just makes me wonder why we would be told where they're going to be."

"Whoever it was obviously wants us to be there to rescue them." Weiss said naïvely.

"Or they want to lure us there for some kind of trap." Devlin countered. "This is very risky business, Weiss."

"But you're still going to send a team to check it out, aren't you?' He persisted.

Devlin nodded reluctantly. "If there's even the slightest chance of getting back two of our agents, we have to follow through."

"Sir, I would like to be part of the team." Weiss said earnestly, not hesitating for a moment in making his request.

"Weiss, we already have agents in Rome and London and even New York, if necessary, and they're all a hell of a lot closer to the Vatican than we are." Devlin pointed out unnecessarily.

Weiss stood his ground. "I realize that, Sir, but I'm sure you understand my reasons." He looked Devlin straight in the eye. "Mike is my partner." He declared and that was enough.

Devlin let out a sigh. "Fine, Weiss." He capitulated. "You'd better call Jack Bristow as well. He'll want to be in on this, too."

"Thank you, Sir."

_To be continued_…


	13. Heart to Heart

Over the next few days, preparations for the mission were hammered out and set in place. Sydney and Vaughn would fly from Taipei to Rome, spend the night, complete their mission the next evening and then be on the next flight to Moscow. Sydney was a bit surprised to learn that they would not be returning to Taipei (although if she had her way, she and Vaughn would be on a plane to Los Angeles, not Moscow) and surmised that the reason for the journey to Moscow was because Irina wanted to show off her newly reclaimed daughter before her oh-so-secretive Council.

On the morning before they were to leave, Sydney awoke a little after eight o'clock. After a leisurely hot shower, she got dressed in jeans and a white tank top and then left her bedroom to head downstairs to breakfast. As she reached the top of the stairs, she spotted Vaughn coming out of his room at the opposite end of the corridor, so she waited for him. 

He looked amazing as always in faded jeans and an eggplant-colored long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show off his strong forearms and the collar unbuttoned just enough to give her a tantalizing glimpse of his chest. A little tingle shot up and down her spine as he walked towards her. Sydney had always thought he looked very attractive in his business suits, but there was just something about his loose, casual look that really got to her. And he was definitely a man who looked good in bold colors. She made a mental note never to buy him anything in pastels.

"Good morning," Vaughn smiled at her, interlocking his fingers with hers as he kissed her lingeringly on the mouth. She looked beautiful and smelled incredible and it was all he could do not to ravish her right then and there.

"Good morning," Sydney murmured as they broke apart. "Did you sleep well?"

"Hmmm, not as well as I could have if I hadn't been alone." His lips dove for a spot on her neck as if he were a vampire and Sydney squealed, pretending to fight him off while laughing at him.

"Michael, not here!" She giggled even as his breath tickled her sensitive skin. "Irina or Sark might see us!"

"I know, I know!" He groaned. She truly was torturing him. "Come on, let's go eat." He held on to her hand and they walked downstairs to the dining room.

The moment they stepped into the room, Sydney noticed a drastic change. Her mother was there as usual, but Sark was not. She looked at Vaughn questioningly and he shrugged, not knowing the answer, either.

"Oh, good morning, Sydney, Michael!" Irina called out, sipping her tea. "Please come and join me."

Sydney and Vaughn went over to the sideboard, which held a number of warming trays, a fruit platter and a basket of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Vaughn filled his plate while Sydney selected a muffin and a cup of coffee. She sat down before he did and looked at her mother.

"So where's Sark?" Sydney asked casually. It wasn't that she cared so especially much about spending quality time (not!) with her brother. It just made her uneasy not to have him where she could keep an eye on him. The sheer havoc the man could create was tremendous and it was just easier on her nerves if she was able to keep tabs on what he was doing.

"Oh, it is nothing for you to be concerned about, dear." Irina waved her hand carelessly. "Sergei just went on a little reconnaissance mission for me. He left late last night."

"When will he be back?"

"I believe he should be finished with his work around the same time you will be, so I expect to have him arrive in Moscow not long after you do." Irina kept her son's whereabouts and activities purposely vague. "Speaking of plane flights, Sydney, has everything been arranged for you and Michael?" And then Irina went off talking about the mission and that took up most of the conversation during breakfast.

The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was spent going over the mission specs. Irina finally let Sydney and Vaughn go around two o'clock and they escaped outside to their hammock by the lookout. It was there that they went over their own secret plans. 

They had had to devise their own method of escape after realizing that Jack Bristow's plan had failed to come to fruition. Both Sydney and Vaughn had taken a dose of the radioactive isotopes as soon as they returned to the house and then waited eagerly for the troops to storm the mountaintop retreat. Unfortunately, no one ever came, which meant something had gone wrong and they were still without hope that anyone knew where they were.

Luckily, Irina's Vatican mission came along, which provided them with their first opportunity for flight. They spent hours going over every possible scenario and poring over every little detail. If everything clicked in exactly the right way, there was a chance that they would be able to make a getaway.

"This is our one big chance, isn't it, Michael?" Sydney let out a sigh. The two of them were side by side in the hammock, but sitting perpendicular to its length, their shoulders touching and their legs hanging over the side. She started trying to see if they could swing back and forth while he stretched his arms above his head and then put one around her.

"Well, I don't know if it's our 'big' chance as much as it is our first." He remarked. "If this doesn't work out, Syd, there will be other moments."

Sydney was silent. She didn't want to think what she was thinking, but how could she not? In spite of everything that was going on, this time they had been able to spend together had been almost idyllic. No disguised phone calls, no sneaking around, no worrying that someone would see them together. Her stress level was way down and she knew it was partly because being here with her mother gave them a certain amount of freedom that they would never be able to have back home. She wondered how Vaughn would react if she told him that she was actually feeling a little reluctant about leaving Taipei.

"Michael, can I ask you something?" She said tentatively.

"What?" His eyes were closed as the warm sun felt good against his face.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

Vaughn caught the hesitant note in her voice and opened his eyes. "What do you mean?" He turned to look at her.

"I mean, about wanting to leave." Sydney looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

His mouth dropped open and he was struck speechless. How could Sydney be having doubts about wanting to go home? It was something that they talked about constantly and she had always made it seem as if it were of the utmost importance to her. Was this Irina's influence? Was Sydney falling prey to her mother's sweet-talking machinations?

"What are you saying, Syd?" Vaughn asked in a quiet voice. "Are you telling me you want to stay with your mother?"

"No, no, it's not about her." Her big brown eyes were troubled as she met his green-eyed gaze. "I won't deny that she and I have reconnected somehow these past few weeks. I didn't mean to let it happen, but it has."

"So you no longer hate her as much as you did before?" He said slowly, not liking where the conversation was headed.

"I-I think I understand her better and it's made me see the things she's done in a different light." Sydney admitted.

"You don't condone the things she did, do you?" Vaughn gave her a hard look, a sharp edge to his voice. "What she did to my father and to your father?"

"_No_, Michael," Sydney stressed urgently. "But that's not even what I'm talking about!" She got up off the hammock and strode over to the retaining wall. Vaughn got up to follow her.

"Syd, talk to me." His voice was warm and soothing and it felt like a caress against her cheek.

She turned to face him. "This has to do with us. About what we have here."

"Sydney, our leaving here isn't going to change anything between us." Vaughn said gently.

"How do you know that?" She said plaintively. "This place is like a fantasyland." He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay, it's a fantasyland with bars on the windows and armed guards, but you know what I mean. When we're here, I feel free." She said, giving a helpless shrug. She wasn't explaining this right and he wasn't understanding what she was trying to say.

"Free?" Vaughn repeated blankly. "I don't know if that's the word I would use."

"Not free in the sense that we can come and go as we please, but free meaning that we don't always have to be so cautious all the time." She looked up at him. "We don't have to always be looking over our shoulders or meeting in places where we can't even look at each other. You can give me a Christmas present and I can actually say out loud who gave it to me." Her lower lip trembled.

Vaughn nodded, finally understanding. "And I'm not labeled 'emotionally attached' just because I care about you."

"That's it." She said softly. "We can be ourselves here, Michael, at least with each other. We can be in love and not have it mean the end of the world."

"But, Syd, you just pointed out the fly in the ointment." He gave her a wry smile. "We can only be ourselves when we're with each other. The rest of the time we have to pretend to be people we're not, particularly around Irina and Sark. Is that how you want to live your life?"

"I don't know, it sounds like a pretty good trade-off." Sydney tried to make a wisecrack, but failed. She let out a frustrated groan. "Oh, Michael, I don't know what I'm saying! Of course I don't want to stay here for the rest of our lives, but I'm just so scared of losing what we've found with each other. In spite of everything that's going on, this is the happiest I've ever been and I'm so afraid of it all disappearing the moment we set foot off of this estate." Her eyes filled with tears.

Vaughn reached up to brush away a stray hair that had fallen across her face. "Sydney, we're not being held captive in some magical fairytale castle. Yes, it is the place where everything came together and where we were able to say 'I love you' for the first time, but it didn't _make_ us fall in love with each other." His voice was gentle. "The feelings we share for one another didn't happen overnight. They developed over a period of months. They're inside of us, Sydney, and they'll be with us wherever we are."

"But you know what it will be like once we get back home. We'll have to be more careful than ever and we still might only be able to see each other two or three times a week at that dank, dingy warehouse." She gave him a petulant look. "I've gotten spoiled being able to look at you or touch you whenever I want and not have anyone blink an eye." 

"It'll be difficult, Sydney. I won't deny that." Vaughn said seriously, tipping her chin up with his finger to make her look at him. "But we'll make it work. We've done it for this long and we'll do it for however long it takes."

"Because now we know what it can be like for us." He gazed soulfully into her beautiful brown eyes. "You've given me a dream, Syd, and I'm not going to give it up until I realize it."

Sydney nodded, allowing a quick smile to spread across her face. "Okay." She whispered just as his mouth covered hers.

*     *     *     *     *

Even though they were not due to leave until late the next evening, Sydney and Vaughn said their goodnights relatively early. He went off to raid Sark's closets one more time while she went to her room to pack her own bag. Since they weren't planning on coming back, Sydney was only taking a change of clothing, an extra top and her workman's uniform. While they were away, Irina was going to have the rest of her wardrobe packed and shipped to Moscow. 

Sydney had just turned down her bed when there was a knock on her door. She didn't expect it to be Vaughn because he knew they couldn't talk freely inside the house and the only other person who had been in her room before was Sark and he was off God knows where. Perhaps it was one of the maids, wanting to tidy up the bathroom.

"Yes? Who is it?" She called out.

"Sydney, it's your mother. May I come in?"

Sydney was jolted momentarily. She and Irina usually had their chats in the library, which was a neutral zone and one in which she could keep things polite and on an even keel. They talked about personal things, of course, but it never felt as if they were having intimate, one-on-one conversations where they told each other their deepest thoughts. But now Irina was venturing into her bedroom for the first time and it felt as if she were invading Sydney's private sanctuary.

There weren't many places in the house where she could be herself, to rant and rave or joke and laugh. Whenever she was with anyone else besides Vaughn, Sydney always felt as if she were onstage, playing the part of the devoted daughter or antagonistic sister. Now Irina was making an attempt to push back her defenses even further, to cross the line into sitcom mother-daughter chat-land, where they could talk about how everyone hated her and how no boy would ever look at her and what was she going to wear to the school dance on Friday night?

Sydney didn't want to become best friends with her mother. It was true their relationship had taken a surprising turn for the better in these past few weeks. Her anger towards Irina had receded somewhat and she could almost empathize with what she had been going through at the time of her disappearance from Sydney's life.

But there were some things Sydney couldn't forget, like how deeply her father had been hurt by her mother's betrayal or the fact that Irina had had an affair with her worst enemy. However, what stuck in her mind most of all was the grievous act her mother had perpetrated against Vaughn's father. In her head, she knew that it had been nothing personal against William Vaughn; Irina had just been doing what she was told to do and the senior Vaughn had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But in her heart, all Sydney could think about was the fact that Irina had robbed the person she loved most in the world of one of the most important people in his life and that was what she couldn't forgive. To take a little boy's father away from him was a brutal and heartless act and even though Irina might show remorse for her past misdeeds, Sydney couldn't get past the fact that _her mother_ had been the one to deliver the cruelest blow Vaughn had ever faced.

"Sydney?" Her mother called out her name again, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, of course." Sydney quickly opened her bedroom door to find her mother dressed in a long white nightgown and a matching silk robe. Her face was scrubbed of makeup and her dark hair was loosely gathered at her nape with a white ribbon. She looked years younger, the angles of her face softer and more rounded. It was a drastic change from how Sydney usually saw her, so tightly drawn in her manner and so austere with her look.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you." Irina said hesitantly. Even her demeanor was different.

"No, not at all." Sydney shook her head, moving her small overnight case off the bed. "I was just packing a few things in my bag." She sat down on one side of the bed.

"Oh, well, good." Irina started pacing around the room, seemingly too wound up to sit down. "I just wanted to talk to you before you left tomorrow, but I didn't want to do it downstairs in the library. It's so formal and stuffy and I never feel that you are comfortable sharing things with me when we are in that room."

Sydney flushed, not realizing it had been so obvious.

"I completely understand, of course." Her mother said hastily. "That's why I thought it would be better if we talked in your bedroom. It's a more inviting setting, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes." Sydney nodded.

"You do like your room, don't you?" Irina sounded anxious, as if she were desperately hoping Sydney would place her stamp of approval on the room and by extension, on her.

"Yes, Mom, I like it a lot." Sydney said sincerely and Irina beamed at her. Sydney was surprised to feel pleased that she'd made her mother happy with her response. Irina's feelings had never seemed to matter to her before, but for some reason, tonight was different.

"I'm glad, Sydney. I chose the décor and every stick of furniture with you in mind. Of course, it was a little harder than it sounds." She admitted. "I wasn't sure if your tastes had changed since you were six years old. For all I knew you were still into--what was that doll's name, Sydney? Strawberry Shortbread?" Sydney was taken aback by the mischievous twinkle in her mother's eyes.

"_Shortcake_, Mom." She grinned in spite of herself. "No, I outgrew her a long time ago, I'm happy to say."

Irina's eyes grew sad. "Have you also outgrown needing your mother, Sydney?"

Her face took on a guarded look. "Why would you ask such a thing, Mom?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "It's just sometimes I get the feeling that you're holding things back from me."

Sydney's muscles grew tense. Was Irina trying to let her know in a roundabout way that she was privy to what she and Vaughn were plotting to do once they got to Rome? Was she warning her of the consequences if she went through with it?

"I know why you're doing it, of course." Irina went on. "You don't want to confide in me because you're afraid I'm going to hurt you again."

That wasn't the response Sydney expected. Maybe Irina wasn't talking about the plan, after all. In any case, Sydney realized she ought to take her mother down that path and away from her true agenda.

"I guess that is part of it, Mom." Sydney said slowly. "You and I were so close when I was a kid. I wanted to be just like you, even down to your profession. It was all because of you that I enrolled in the graduate program at school, so that I could become an English Lit professor like you were."

"But I guess the joke's on me, huh?" She said with a wry twist of her lips. "I still managed to follow in your footsteps, but I became something I didn't set out to be."

Irina turned a troubled gaze on her. "I never wanted this life for you, Sydney. It's dangerous and lonely and ultimately unfulfilling. You give everything you have on every mission, but it's never enough because someone will always demand something more of you on the next one."

"It is hard to deal with sometimes." Sydney admitted. "The most difficult part for me is lying to the people I care about. It eats me up inside not being able to tell my friends the truth about myself."

Irina nodded sympathetically. "You can't tell anyone what you really do, so you can never be completely honest and that immediately puts up a barrier between you that you can never tear down."

"Of course, you are fortunate enough to have Michael. He is a good man, Sydney." Irina said approvingly. She cast a sideways glance at her daughter who had a little smile on her face at the mention of her beloved's name. "You love him with every part of your being, don't you, Sydney?"

Sydney met her mother's gaze. "Yes, Mom." She said clearly and without hesitation. "He's the best part of my life. I don't have to keep any secrets from him. I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not. He knows everything about me yet he still loves me, anyway." For the first time in a long time, Sydney was expressing her true and honest feelings to her mother and Irina was fully aware of it.

"Yes, I can see it every time he looks at you." Irina suddenly looked wistful. "Your father used to look at me the same way."

Sydney always bristled whenever her father's name came up in their conversations. She hated that Irina had taken the love Jack had given her and turned it into something twisted, something to be used against him. Hadn't she realized at the time that Jack Bristow was not a man who gave of his heart freely or foolishly? When he loved, he loved deeply. And when he was betrayed, he felt it even more profoundly.

When Irina left her father, she took some of his best parts along with her. She took his ability to laugh and joke and have fun with his daughter. He was never able to be so relaxed and carefree with Sydney after that and although she used to resent him for it, she resented Irina even more. Her mother was the one who had caused the change in him. Her mother was the one who had stolen her father's love away from her, triggering their estrangement that had lasted for so many years. That wasn't something you could so easily make up for with hugs and kisses and pronouncements of remorse.

"I know you may not believe I am being sincere, Sydney, but I did care for your father." Irina said quietly. "It is true I didn't love him as much as you love Michael or as much as I love you, but you cannot have a child with a man and not feel something for him."

The catch in her mother's voice was convincing and her words did sound heartfelt. Sydney almost started to believe her, but then she thought about Sark. If what her mother was saying was true, then that meant she had felt something for Sloane as well and Sydney simply couldn't tolerate that.

"Sydney? Why are you looking at me like that?"

She hadn't realized her thoughts had transferred themselves to the expression on her face. "I was just thinking about Sark." Sydney said truthfully, not bothering to take the easy way out as she usually did in order to spare her mother from making some difficult explanations.

"Don't you really mean Arvin?" Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you just said it, didn't you?" Sydney challenged Irina. "You said you couldn't have a child with a man and not feel something for him. Does that mean what you told me about your affair was a lie?"

"No, Sydney, what I told you was the truth." Irina's voice was steadfast. "What happened between me and Arvin was business, plain and simple. There was no feeling, no pleasure."

"You had his child." Sydney said stonily.

"Only because it was Sergei who kept me alive." Her mother finally sat down on the bed next to her. "When I found out I had to leave you, Sydney, I knew it would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do."

"When the car went into the river, I seriously thought about not coming back up." She confessed. "If I couldn't have my baby, I didn't want to live."

"But then I thought about the baby inside of me. If I didn't survive, then he wouldn't survive and I couldn't bear to take an innocent life."

Sydney tried to comprehend what her mother was telling her. "So are you saying that having the baby wasn't so much about your feelings for Sloane as it was about your feelings for Sark?"

"You could put it that way." Irina nodded. "I am thankful to Arvin for providing me with my son, but that is all."

"That is the difference between Arvin and your father. I have no feelings of remorse for what I did to him and I will not be sorry when his precious SD-6 is leveled to the ground."

Sydney stared at her. "But Dad?"

Irina's eyes filled with genuine regret. "I will always feel badly for what I did to him, Sydney. I know you may think I'm just saying that because I think it is what you want to hear, but don't forget that it was a different set of circumstances. It is true I used them both, but I was _married_ to Jack. I lived with him for ten years." Irina paused. "And I had you with him." She added, as if that explained everything.

Did she believe her mother? Sydney was surprised to admit just how badly she wanted to. Perhaps she just wanted some proof that her mother wasn't the cold, heartless creature she appeared to be.

"Mom, I believe you." Sydney said tentatively. "I believe that you are truly sorry for how you treated Dad." Maybe it was naïve of her to want to see the goodness in her mother and if it came back to haunt her later, she would only have herself to blame. But even accepting that didn't stop her from doing it.

Irina's face curved into a smile. "Thank you, Sydney." And then she did something she never thought she would do again.

She hugged her daughter.

And her daughter let her.

After a few moments of embrace, Irina stepped back. "Well, I better let you finish your packing." She patted Sydney's cheek lovingly. "Good night and sleep tight."

"And don't let the bed bugs bite." They recited together in unison, much to their surprise.

Irina gave her a brief smile. "I haven't thought about that silly rhyme in ages, Sydney."

"You used to say it to me every night before I went to sleep." Sydney reminded her.

"I remember that you would always ask me what a bed bug looked like."

"And I remember that you would never give me a good enough answer."

"That's because I didn't know what one looked like." Irina smiled again and then started for the door. "Good night, Sydney."  
  


"Good night," As an afterthought, she added, "Mom." For the first time in a long time, that word actually meant something to her.

**Author's Note**: Okay, so my Irina is **A LOT** nicer than the Irina on TV (at least mine isn't shooting her own daughter!), but maybe she won't turn out to be all bad.

P.S. The next few chapters are going to indulge my shippyness for Syd & Vaughn, but I don't think many of you will mind!

Please keep leaving your reviews!


	14. Speechless

Their flight to Rome was scheduled for late the next evening. It wasn't an ideal situation but when they factored in the time differences, the length of the flight and the fact that Taipei to Rome wasn't exactly a popular tourist route, the only flight available was one that would have them arriving in Rome shortly after noon the next day.

Because they would be spending over eighteen hours on the plane and Irina did not want them tired and jet-lagged for their mission, she was reluctantly allowing them to spend the night and then go ahead with their assignment the next day. Irina was taking a risk giving them those extra hours; she would have preferred for them to do the job the minute they arrived in Rome, but she couldn't take a chance that their weary bodies and minds might lead to slip-ups, which could result in their being caught. Sydney and Vaughn were grateful for the extra time because it would give them a chance to put their own plans into motion.

They were going undercover as Amélie and François Chabert of Paris, France. They chose to pose as French tourists because they could converse fluently in the language and they both did credible enough accents (Vaughn sounded and spoke like a Frenchman as opposed to sounding like an American speaking French) that their nationalities would not be questioned. Irina had not wanted them to be American tourists because she didn't want too much attention to be drawn to their true identities. If someone was going to report a suspicious-looking couple to the authorities, they were going to report a suspicious-looking _French_ couple, not a suspicious-looking American couple.

Irina's connections in Rome had already secured the use of the van, various explosives and the necessary equipment in order for them to get into the vault. If all went well, the only time-consuming activity would be locating the portrait and they already had the inventory number, thanks to some discreet computer-hacking. Once they found the painting, it would just be a matter of going out the same way they came in without getting caught.

Of course, Sydney and Vaughn weren't planning on actually going through with their act of thievery if they could help it. Their main objective was to escape from Irina, not pilfer works of art. It all depended on whether or not they could contact the right people.

Irina rode with them in the limo to the airport, giving them last-minute instructions. Sydney was unusually quiet, wondering to herself if this would be the last time she would see her mother. She was surprised at how much that thought dismayed her.

She wished she could tell Vaughn how she was feeling, but something inside of her stopped her every time she tried to introduce the subject into their conversation. Sydney didn't like keeping things from him--she hated it, really, because that was the one thing that had always set him apart from everyone else in her life--but she just didn't know if he would be able to comprehend how conflicted she was feeling. Would he be open-minded enough to understand that she could care for--maybe even love--her mother while still hating the things she had done? 

"Sydney?" Irina's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She met her mother's gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, Sydney could see Vaughn looking at her, a concerned expression on his face.

"Here's your ring." Irina was holding a simple, highly polished gold band in the palm of her hand.

"My ring?" She repeated blankly, making no move to take it.

"Your wedding ring." Her mother gave her a strange look. "You and Michael are supposed to be married, remember?"

"Oh, right." Sydney felt a flush creep into her cheeks. _Get a grip, Syd_! _It's not real_. _It's just cheap gold-plated metal_. "Thank you." She unobtrusively slipped the ring onto her finger. She couldn't help but sneak a peek at Vaughn's hand to see if he was wearing his ring (he was). It looked the same as hers except a little wider and a little bolder. It looked good on him.

Sydney had hoped that Irina would drop them off at the curb and then go on her way, but no such luck. Airport security wasn't as tight in foreign countries as it was in the U.S. and so Irina waited while they checked in, went through the security checkpoint with them and then was able to make it as far as the waiting area to see them off. Sydney wondered to herself if her mother was babysitting them so closely because she was afraid they would bolt the minute they were out of her sight.

The three of them sat there in uncomfortable plastic seats, not speaking, as they waited for their flight to be called. Irina seemed down all of a sudden after being so animated during the drive over and Vaughn was anxious to get going. Sydney was just plain tense.

Finally, after what seemed an interminable wait (actually only half an hour), a voice came over the loudspeaker. "_Attention passengers, Flight 809 from Taipei to Rome, Italy will be boarding in five minutes at Gate 25_. _At this time, we would like to board first-class and business-class passengers only_." The woman announced in lightly accented English. She then went on to repeat the message in a number of different languages.

"Well, that's us." Vaughn practically leapt out of his chair. Irina stood up reluctantly and Sydney followed suit.

"So it is." Irina said. She went over to Vaughn and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Good luck in Rome, Michael. I know you will do everything in your power to ensure our success."

"Of course, Irina." He said, the picture of earnestness. "I'll also look out for Sydney just as I promised."

She smiled. "I know you will." She kissed him lightly on both cheeks, European-style. Off to the side, Sydney winced for him.

"Well, I'll go get in line and let you two say goodbye." Vaughn gave them a brief parting smile and then picked up his and Sydney's bags.

Irina turned to face her daughter. "So this is goodbye." She said, a wistful note in her voice. Her eyes were bright, but no tears fell from her eyes.

"It's only for a couple of days, Mom." Sydney reminded her, trying to remain unmoved.

"That doesn't matter." Irina shook her head. "I would still feel this way even if it was only for a couple of hours. I guess it all goes back so many years ago to the first time I had to say goodbye to you."

"I thought that would be the last time I ever saw you and I would never get to know the woman you would eventually grow up to be." Her mother suddenly folded her into a fierce embrace. "I am very proud of the person you've become, Sydney. You are strong and intelligent and determined and I wish I could take credit for any of it, but I know that would be foolish. You became who you are without any help from me and I will always regret that."

Sydney squeezed her eyes tight, willing herself not to cry. "Thank you, Mom." She uttered, her voice cracking.

Irina brushed a kiss against her cheek and Sydney felt a dampness on her face. As her mother let go of her, she saw Irina wipe away a tear. "I will expect to see you in Moscow in a few days." She said briskly, seemingly in control of her emotions once more.

"All right." Sydney nodded.

The loudspeaker suddenly crackled. "_Attention passengers, we are now ready to board Flight 809 from Taipei to Rome, Italy at Gate 25_._ At this time, we would like to board our first-class and business-class passengers only_."

"You'd better go." Irina said, her chin up and her posture erect. You would never know to look at her that a little part of her was dying inside at the thought of having to say goodbye to her daughter once again.

"Okay." Sydney said. She wanted to say something more, but at the same time, there was nothing more to say. In keeping with the spirit of their mission, all she could think of was "_Ciao_."

Her mother gave her a little smile. "_Ciao_."

Sydney left her mother and did not look back. Vaughn took her hand as she joined him.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice.

"I will be." She let out a tremulous sigh. "I just didn't expect it to affect me so much."

Vaughn squeezed her hand comfortingly as the line moved forward.

Irina had sprung for business-class seats so they would at least be comfortable during the very long flight. They would have one stopover for refueling, but they would not be allowed to get off the plane. Irina was making sure that they would not be able to ditch her before they got to Rome.

About ninety minutes into the flight, the lights were dimmed in the cabin as everyone settled down to try and get some sleep. Judging by the number of people in the waiting area at the airport, the plane was probably only half-full and the business-class section had more empty seats than filled. Sydney and Vaughn were seated in the first row, but there was no one beside them or behind them, so they were able to talk in complete privacy as long as they kept their voices low.

Sydney had been pretty quiet ever since the plane took off and Vaughn let her be. Even though _he_ was glad to finally be rid of Irina, he knew Sydney would have a harder time dealing with it. No matter how much she griped and groused about her mother, there was still a bond between them and he was astute enough to realize it. He wouldn't nag or criticize her for feeling the way she did; he would just be there for her if she wanted to talk about it.

"Michael?" Sydney spoke for the first time since leaving Taipei.

"Yes?" He turned his head to look at her.

She turned her body sideways in her seat. They had put their chairs into a reclining position in order to afford themselves a more comfortable sleeping arrangement, but they both knew that it was impossible to get a really good night's rest on an airplane.

"What's our game plan when we get to Rome?" She asked. Leaving her mother behind meant some of the feelings got left behind, too, and she was able to focus now on the matter at hand. "Do you want to try and call Devlin at the airport or do you want to wait until we get to the hotel?"

"Well, I'd like to get in touch with him as soon as we can, but I'm just not sure we should do it the moment we step off the plane."

"Are you still worried that Irina might have someone watching us?"

Vaughn hesitated. "I just think she's placing an awful lot of trust in us on our first mission."

Sydney was convinced that he was being nervous for nothing. "Michael, I'm her daughter!" She chided him. "If she can't trust me, who can she trust?"

"Are you conveniently forgetting that she _can't_ trust you?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"But she doesn't know that!" She waved her hand in a blasé manner. "I believe she has complete faith in us that we'll do everything exactly as she planned and then meet her in Moscow two days from now." Sydney said with absolute conviction.

"Well, I wish I shared your positive attitude, but just to be on the safe side, I think we should wait until we get to the hotel." Vaughn replied warily. "There's just too many people inside an airport and I don't want to cause a scene. If Irina has someone there watching us and we do something not according to the plan, I don't think I want to know what they'd do to us."

"I suppose you're right." Sydney agreed. "At least the hotel room will be private."

"Oh, you just reminded me that I need to do something." Vaughn stood up and stepped into the aisle to open the overhead compartment. Sydney watched as he took out his black overnight bag and then closed the compartment again. When he sat back down, he proceeded to unzip his bag and take out a plastic-wrapped packet and a new leather wallet.

"Irina gave these to me in the car." He explained. "They're 'François Chabert's' phony ID and credit cards. I should put everything in the wallet now so that it'll all be there when we check in."

"Yeah, it's a dead giveaway that something's fishy if you carry your credit cards wrapped up in a plastic bag." Sydney deadpanned as Vaughn took everything out of the packet. "Oh, my God, she even gave you a photo of us to put in your wallet!" She picked up the photo to stare at it, knowing exactly when it had been shot. Irina had asked Sark to show her how to use her digital camera one evening and to test out her newly learned skills, she had snapped several photos of her and Vaughn. Now Sydney wondered if it had all been a set-up just to get their pictures taken.

"What's the big deal about that?"

"It's just so incredibly…_anal_ that she would go into detail like that." She shook her head. "'François' isn't even real!"

"Yeah, but we are and if you're going for realism, it's normal to carry around photographs of your loved ones in your wallet." Vaughn looked amused. "It's a nice picture." He commented, looking over her shoulder. "But then you could never take a bad photo, dear." He added with a teasing grin.

"Could you sound more insincere with your flattery?" Sydney rolled her eyes at him, pretending to be affronted. "I, on the other hand, can say with complete and total honesty that you look incredibly handsome." She handed him the photo, planting a kiss on his cheek as she did so.

"And I believe you." Vaughn said with a straight face. He waited a beat and then looked at her sideways. "See, Syd, that's how you accept a compliment. You don't question it. You just take people at their word." A ghost of a smile played about his lips.

"Oh, please!" She groaned softly while he chuckled.

"Okay, all done." Vaughn's brand-new wallet lay full and stuffed on the tray table in front of them. He shoved the now-empty plastic bag into his overnight bag and when his hand came out, he placed what he was holding on the tray table next to the wallet. "Oh, before I forget, this is for you." Vaughn said offhandedly as he zipped up his bag and then stepped out into the aisle again to put it back into the overhead compartment. 

Sydney became very still and her breath caught in her throat. She had to swallow several times before she could speak.

"What is that?"

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Okay, come on, any guesses?  Actually, I don't think it's that difficult to figure out.

P.S. This is just the beginning of the fluff. Major fluff to come later.


	15. Roman Holiday

**Author's Note**: Please assume that Sydney and Vaughn are speaking Italian when talking to the locals. I've added some Italian here and there just for flavor. I know I could have looked up the translations, but that seemed like a lot of extra work and I wanted to get this out as soon as I could for everyone who's been asking for the next chapter (thanks so much for your very positive feedback! I really do appreciate it!).

P.S. If you're really missing the authenticity of Italian-speaking Vaughn, my advice is to just imagine how freaking **HOT** he is whenever he speaks in a foreign language and hopefully it'll make up for my laziness (Hee!).

Oh, yeah, and to all of you who guessed ENGAGEMENT RING, you were right, but as always, it's not going to turn out the way you think (I've got something else planned for right now).

Hope you enjoy the read and please keep checking in with your reviews!

*     *     *     *     *

"Michael?" Sydney uttered his name softly. "What is that?" She asked again.

Vaughn had just settled back into his seat when he caught the shell-shocked look on Sydney's face. He followed her stunned gaze down to what she was staring at and felt a twinge in his gut when he realized what was causing her catatonic-like state. _Idiot_! _How could you be so casual about giving her something like that_? He hastened to explain.

"I'm sorry, Syd, that was insensitive of me." Vaughn said, feeling deeply apologetic.

_He was sorry_?"Does your apology mean you're taking it back?"

He winced. "No, I just--it's not--I mean, I shouldn't have acted so blasé just now when I gave that to you." He stammered out. "I should have realized that a little black velvet box has certain connotations attached to it and…" Vaughn suddenly trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Sydney looked as hopeful and excited as a little girl who couldn't wait to open her presents on Christmas morning and his heart ached for her.

"When I see a box like that, it usually means there's a ring inside." She still hadn't taken her eyes away from the small square box with its rounded corners and gold trim. "And if there's a ring, there's also a question that precedes it." Sydney finally looked up at Vaughn with a wistful look on her face.

A pained grimace shot across his face. "Sydney, honey, I'm sorry, but it's not what you think." Vaughn watched as her face fell and it nearly killed him to burst her bubble like that. "Irina gave that to me last night. It's just a prop."

"A prop?" She repeated, momentarily confused.

"Yeah, you know." Vaughn felt like an absolute clod. "Because we're supposed to be married?"

"Oh, right." Sydney finally let out the breath she'd been holding, a disappointed feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't real, after all. Nothing in her life was real, it seemed. Maybe he wasn't even real. His perfection was just an illusion her addled mind had conjured up.

"Sydney, please forgive me." Vaughn pleaded in a quiet voice. "I had no idea you'd react this way. I mean, it didn't seem like such a big deal to you when Irina gave us our fake wedding rings in the car."

"Well, I think that had more to do with the way she did it, you know?" She gave an unassuming shrug. "There were no 'I do's.' No 'I now pronounce you man and wife.' It was just 'Here's your ring. Put it on.'" Sydney tried to play off her embarrassment by making jokes.

"Syd…" Vaughn saw right through her and in a way, she was grateful that he could read her so well.

"I'm behaving like a complete fool, aren't I?" Sydney covered her face with her hands for a brief moment of self-pity and then suddenly took them away, a fake bright smile plastered on her face. "Oh, come on, let's see what I'm making such a fuss about!" She reached for the black velvet box and opened the lid. A breathtakingly beautiful "diamond" engagement ring winked back at her.

"Wow." Vaughn uttered softly. "They're doing great work with cubic zirconia these days."

"It is gorgeous." Sydney agreed. It was exactly the sort of ring she would have picked out for herself had she had the opportunity: a large-but-not-too-large pear-cut center "diamond" flanked by two smaller pear-cut sidestones, all of which were set into an ornately designed band of "gold." Sydney was surprised to discover how affected she was by the sight of a few diamond-like imitations and a cheap piece of scrap metal. Then she realized it wasn't about the size of the stones or if the band was yellow gold or platinum. It was about what it meant when someone asked you to spend the rest of your life with him. Sydney started to wonder for the umpteenth time if she would ever have a life that included engagement rings and china patterns and bouquet-tossing.

"Sydney, are you okay?" Vaughn asked apprehensively.

"I'll be fine, Michael." She gave him a quick but subdued smile. "It just got to me for a moment. You know, the whole floating-on-a-cloud feeling you get when the man you're in love with pops the big question."

Sydney's eyes had a sad look in them and Vaughn wished there was something he could do so that he would never have to see that look in her eyes again. "I've actually never experienced the pleasure of asking someone to marry me." He confessed.

She looked sideways at him. "It never got to that point with Alice?"

"No," He shook his head a tad too vehemently. "Not even close."

"Danny proposed to me on campus." Sydney told him in a soft voice. "He got down on one knee, took the ring out of his pocket and then he suddenly burst into song." She smiled at the lovely memory and then her smile slowly faded as she remembered how her last (and only) engagement had turned out.

Vaughn agonized for a way in which to make things right again. After racking his brain, he finally picked up the ring box and removed the ring from its little slot. Without a word, he reached for Sydney's left hand and lovingly placed the ring on her third finger, laying it to rest right above the "gold" wedding band Irina had given to her. It was a perfect fit.

"I wish it was for real, Sydney." He said quietly.

Sydney was so moved by his declaration, a lump rose in her throat. "I do, too." She whispered, cradling his face in her hands and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

When they pulled away, Vaughn took her left hand in his and they admired the ring together. Who cared if it was just cubic zirconia and a gold-plated metal that would probably turn her finger green? He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I promise you that it will happen someday."

She smiled at him as she brushed away a tear. "And don't think I won't hold you to that promise, Agent Vaughn." A speculative look appeared on her face as she moved her hand back and forth to let the light play off the "diamonds." "This is a pretty nice sparkler considering it's a fake. Do you think she had it specially made for me?"

"What, as some kind of bribe?" Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "Somehow I don't think Irina would try to win you over with fake jewelry."

"Yeah, knowing her, she'd probably try to do it with the genuine article." Sydney said mockingly. "Maybe one day I can look forward to inheriting a diamond tiara or a humongous ruby ring from one of her Russian czarina ancestors." She made a face.

"Oh, right, I've heard that tiaras are all the rage these days for your well-dressed spies." He snorted appreciatively at his little joke.

"Hey, I'd look good in a black catsuit with a diamond-studded tiara in my hair!" She pretended to be outraged, but she couldn't keep from grinning.

"Well, the catsuit, anyway." Vaughn added a bit lasciviously, glad to see that Sydney appeared to be out of her funk. He took another glance at her hand, thinking back to the night before when Irina had come to his room to give him the ring. "You know, looking at that ring just now makes me think about a rather strange comment Irina made when she gave it to me." He looked thoughtful.

"What did she say?"

"Well, I asked her why she didn't just give it to you herself and she said, 'Even though it's not real, I think Sydney would appreciate this more if it came from you rather than me.'" Vaughn quoted and then shook his head. "Don't you think that's kind of an odd thing to say?"

Sydney looked confused. "Does she think I like to go around collecting engagement rings?" She cracked. "Because I already have one at home, thank you very much, and I don't need her fake one."

"No, I don't think it's anything as weird as that." His forehead furrowed into a frown. "I think it has more to do with the sentiment behind the ring rather than the ring itself. When you present someone with an engagement ring and you ask her to marry you, that's a big deal. You're offering up a lifetime commitment."

Vaughn gave Sydney a little nudge in the shoulder. "Maybe she thought it would give me ideas of doing it for real." His lips twitched as he tried to hide a smile.

Sydney was mortified. "Do you think she was hinting for you to ask me to marry you?" 

Vaughn's expression was one of amusement. "Oh, Syd, I certainly don't need Irina's help for that thought to be put in my head." He said, an enigmatic smile on his face.

*     *     *     *     *

After a restless night of sleep, Sydney and Vaughn awoke to the rattle of the meal carts being pushed up the aisle by the flight attendants. They both accepted a breakfast tray consisting of a surprisingly edible cheese omelet, a somewhat appetizing round of apple pastry and a fruit cup with real pineapple and kiwi fruit. It wasn't a gourmet feast, but it was something to put into their stomachs plus the juice was cold and the coffee was hot.

The flight arrived on schedule and soon they were disembarking from the plane. From the moment they stepped into the terminal, Sydney and Vaughn became Amélie and François Chabert. They spoke only in French, displaying their tourist status rather pointedly by breaking out their Italy travel guidebooks, and did not do anything that would be thought of as suspicious, such as dawdling behind the rest of the passengers or ducking into the restrooms to drastically alter their appearances through disguise. Instead they went directly to Customs, where their processing took about half an hour, and then they left the airport in a taxi.

After a lengthy but scenic drive through the city of Rome, the taxi finally pulled up in front of the Hotel Bellini. Irina had chosen the hotel for its close proximity to the Vatican, which was within five minutes walking distance. As Sydney waited for Vaughn to pay the driver, she looked around to check out their surroundings and noted that she could see the dome of St. Peter's Basilica towering high over the tops of the other buildings.

"Amélie?" Vaughn put a hand under her elbow and they walked into the lobby together. 

The interior of the hotel was pleasant if a little uninspired. Marble floors and columns ringed a large communal seating area in the center of the lobby, a room that was decorated in a watercolor scheme of aqua and sea green and lavender. The people lounging around on the plush velvet sofas had a nice view of the pool through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but if they didn't want to stare at the girls in bikinis or the guys in Speedos, they could admire the tall vases of purple orchids placed on ebony pedestals throughout the room or check out the interesting artwork on the walls. The Hotel Bellini was one of the newer mid-priced hotels in the city, large enough for them to be able to blend in yet still exclusive enough that the noise level in the lobby did not rise above a dull roar.

"Do you want to come with me to check in?" Vaughn asked Sydney in a low voice, speaking in French even though there was no one around to overhear their conversation.

She arched an eyebrow. "Was it ever a question that I wouldn't?"

Vaughn felt a faint flush suffuse his face. "Sorry, I wasn't sure about the married people etiquette when it comes to hotel check-ins. When I was a kid, my dad always took care of that stuff while my mom watched after me to make sure I didn't go flinging myself off the high diving board into the pool the moment her back was turned."

Sydney stifled a grin. "I had no idea you were such a precocious kid, François." She said teasingly and stuck her arm through his as they both got in line to check in.

The line moved quickly and soon they were at the counter. The young woman who checked them in had very shiny curly black hair, big brown eyes and a nametag that read "Raffaella."

"_Buon giorno_, how may I help you?" Raffaella asked pleasantly, gazing quite appreciatively at the attractive man standing in front of her. Too bad it looked as if he had a girlfriend.

"_Buon giorno_, _mi chiamo François Chabert_._ Ho una prenotazione_." (Good afternoon, my name is François Chabert. I have a reservation.) Vaughn said in perfect Italian, giving the pretty girl a friendly smile.

Raffaella blushed as the handsome Frenchman smiled at her. "_Grazie, _SignorChabert." She said shyly as she typed his name into the computer. Sydney, who for the most part was being ignored, rolled her eyes at their little exchange and nudged Vaughn with her elbow. He gave her a sideways look and a shrug of his shoulders as if to say, "I can't help it if she thinks I'm hot." to which Sydney responded with another roll of her eyes.

"Oh, yes, here is your reservation." Raffaella tapped a few keys on her keyboard. "And I see that your room has already been paid for in advance for one night." 

_Paid for in advance from an untraceable bank account_, Sydney added silently. Since Vaughn's credit cards were fake and Irina hadn't wanted them to pay for their room in cash, she had arranged for the money to be wired to the hotel from a Swiss bank account, one of the many she seemed to have.

"It is a shame that you are only spending one night in our beautiful city." Raffaella lamented as she activated their hotel room card keys and waited for the printer to finish printing out their receipt.

Before Vaughn could say anything, Sydney jumped in. "Yes, it is too bad but neither François nor I can bear to be away from our four children for any length of time." She said sweetly, thus turning Vaughn from a sexy heartthrob into a fuddy-duddy old dad. "We have two boys and two girls." She added proudly.

"Wow, four children! You must be very proud." Raffaella smiled at her. "We have four children in my family, too. I am the youngest."

"Oh, lucky you!" Sydney cooed. "Our youngest, Jeannette, gets away with everything, so it must be the same for you!" She could feel Vaughn's laser beams staring at her, but she was having too much fun to care.

"That's what my mama says, but I don't think so." Raffaella shook her head as she waited for Vaughn to sign the receipt and the hotel register. "My brother, Marco, has it much easier than I do. He gets to do anything he wants because he's the oldest."

"Oh, I think we are much stricter with our oldest, Michel. He always complains that we are too lenient with the younger children." Sydney let out a laugh.

"Here you go." Vaughn said in a louder-than-normal voice, handing Raffaella the register and the receipt. The young Italian girl gave them the yellow copy of the receipt along with their card keys. Then she rang for a bellman to help them with their bags.

"Enjoy your stay, _Signor e Signora_ Chabert!" She smiled as the bellman arrived.

Sydney left the counter with a self-satisfied look on her face. Vaughn put an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer to him. "What was all that about?" He whispered in her ear, an incredulous tone to his voice.

"Are you asking about my natural ability to embellish off the top of my head?" She asked innocently.

"You were going a little overboard, don't you think?" Vaughn couldn't help but be amused. "Making up names for our _four_ kids?"

"I only made up _two_ names." Sydney corrected him. "And just so you know, you started it by flirting with her!" She said laughingly.

"Sweetheart, I wasn't flirting with her." He protested. "When I flirt, it goes way beyond a smile." Vaughn shot her a suggestive leer.

Sydney gave a sexy little growl. "Oooh, you'll have to practice on me some time." She grinned as they headed into the elevator with the bellman.

Their room was on the third floor. Sydney and Vaughn waited in the hallway as the bellman unlocked their door. He allowed them to enter the room before him and then placed their bags inside of the tiny closet. 

Sydney took a look around. It was a nice room, but undistinguishable from every other hotel room she had ever been in. Stark whitewashed walls, beige shag carpeting, inexpensively made wood veneer furniture. A small round table and two low-slung chairs were set up next to the window and a television sat atop a dresser with four drawers. The bedspread on the queen-sized bed was an unassuming gold-and-white stripe, but the mattress looked comfortable enough. Two nightstands were placed on either side of the bed, a phone sitting on one and a clock radio sitting on the other.

Sydney was a bit disappointed at the plainness of the room, but she managed to keep her feelings hidden from Vaughn. It wasn't the setting she had pictured in her mind when she thought of them making love for the first time, but after waiting as long as they had, she couldn't place that much importance on the décor. It was the act that mattered to her, not the surroundings.

She strolled over to the window to take in their view while Vaughn tipped the bellman. Once the man left, Vaughn sat down at the table and opened his briefcase to go over his notes.

He and Sydney had worked out a couple of contingency plans, one featuring their escape and one featuring them actually going through with Irina's scheme.

They figured that once they were away from Irina's watchful eye, they could contact Devlin in L.A. and he would be able to send in an extraction team to get them. They were fairly certain that their movements would not be monitored while they were in Rome (Sydney was sure her mother trusted her implicitly), so Irina would have no clue that their defection would be due to their own efforts and not of those from the CIA.

Sydney and Vaughn both realized that willingly surrendering themselves to the American Embassy or the nearest CIA branch office was not a viable option. Besides the fact that Irina would see this as an act of betrayal of the worst possible kind, they both knew it would not be a piece of cake to simply walk into the Embassy and try to make the powers that be believe the incredible tale of what had happened to them. These days, security was at an all-time high in U.S. government offices--even more so on foreign soil--and they had nothing with them that would identify their status as government agents or even as American citizens. All they had were their fake French passports, which meant they would be going in with nothing but their word to back them up and they both knew how far that would take them. Perhaps as far as the nearest jail cell?

No, it had to look as if the CIA had somehow gotten word as to what they were going to do at the Vatican and then planned a counter-mission in order to foil them. Irina would think they had walked into a trap set up by the CIA in order to capture the enemy, when in reality it would serve as their means for extraction. The benefits of this plan were threefold: Sydney and Vaughn would be free of Irina's chains, they would be able to go back to their own lives and most importantly, Irina would not come after them as an act of revenge for their duplicity.

Vaughn realized how imperative it was that he and Sydney remain on Irina's good side, even in absentia. He had already seen how easily Irina could manipulate her daughter through flowery words and a few tearful speeches. He didn't want to find out what she could do to them if there was hatred in her eyes and vengeance in her heart. Right now, Irina was their ally and while he didn't like it one bit that he was kowtowing to her, it was a necessary course of action because it meant Sydney would be safe. Irina would have no reason for retaliation if she believed that their "capture" was through no fault of their own.

Of course, their entire escape plan hinged on the theory that they had to contact someone who could vouch for them and set everything in motion. Devlin was their best bet because he was hopefully aware of their situation and could get the ball rolling, but Jack or Weiss would do in a pinch.

In the worst possible scenario--if they couldn't make contact with anyone--he and Sydney would have to do what they came to do. They would go in the same way they had before--through the sewer. Vaughn wondered to himself if the damage they had wrought a few months earlier had been completely fixed or if it had just been a patch job. Or maybe no one had done anything yet. They wouldn't know until they got down there.

Once inside the vault, he and Sydney would locate the Rambaldi painting and then make tracks back to the getaway van. Within a few hours, they were supposed to be on a plane bound for Moscow.

"Michael?" Sydney's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hmmm?" He said absently.

"Do you remember what we were talking about on the plane?"

He looked up. "Refresh my memory, Syd. We talked about a lot of things."

She turned from the window and beckoned him silently with her finger. "I was telling you that I wanted to get a leather bag while we were here."

Vaughn frowned, not recalling any such frivolous topic of conversation. He got up to join her. "What are you--"

She put a finger to his lips. From behind the curtain, Sydney pointed to the fair-haired man standing on the opposite side of the street. It was unmistakably Sark.

"Well, now we know where he took off to." Vaughn remarked in a low mumble.

Sydney met Vaughn's gaze. They both knew what the other was thinking. She grabbed his hand and led him into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Without a word, she reached into the shower to turn the water on full-blast, so that the sound of the rushing water would drown out their conversation. 

Sydney leaned in close to his ear. "Why didn't she tell us he was coming to chaperone us?"

"She's doing to us what she did to you when you met Jack in Taipei. Our first time out, you knew she was going to pull her loyalty test on us." Vaughn looked at her. "It's a good thing we didn't make our move at the airport. He was probably there waiting for us and you know what would have happened if we'd made a break for it." He said grimly. 

"Irina would have had us apprehended, flown back to Taipei and probably facing a firing squad." She gave him a worried look. "Michael, Sark was in Rome before us. Do you think he might have bugged the room?"

"It's a possibility." Vaughn conceded. "Maybe we should ask for a different room."

Sydney looked incensed. "Damn them and their manipulations! This was supposed to be our night, Michael! Our one chance!" Angry tears sprang to her eyes.

"Hush, Syd, it will turn out all right." Vaughn reached out with his thumb to brush away the wetness from her cheeks.

"Do you really want them to be able to listen in on our first time together?" She asked furiously.

"I don't know. Do you make a lot of noise in bed?" He quipped with a completely serious expression on his face.

"Michael!" Sydney pretended to be scandalized that such a provocative comment would fall from his lips, but the truth was, it tickled her. How could she ever have believed Agent Michael Vaughn to be so sedate and by-the-book? There was a sexy beast lurking beneath his perfectly pressed suits and she was dying to let him out.

She also realized that he was a wise beast because his outrageous remark did what he had intended. Her anger was immediately cut in half and instead she had the ridiculous urge to take him right then and there. But what held her back was the thought that the bathroom might be bugged as well. "Please be serious!" She tried to give him a stern look. "It's an invasion of our privacy!"

"Sydney, there's no rule that says we have to stay here tonight." He said mildly.

"What? You want to deviate from the Grand Master Plan?" Sydney said loftily, doing a dead-on impression of her mother's accent. "There is no room for improvisation, Michael!" Her voice was full of Irina's reproach.

"Syd, don't, you're giving me the creeps chewing me out in your mother's voice." Vaughn shuddered and then shot her a grin. "Seriously, though, we don't have to stay here." His eyes started to twinkle.

"You and I can lose Sark with one hand tied behind our backs." Vaughn said in his most confident manner. "We'll sneak out through an employees' entrance, have a fantastic dinner and then we'll look for a romantic little hotel where we can spend the night and Sark will never find us." He kissed the corner of her mouth, trying to make the pout go away.

"You want to go out to dinner?" She gave him a look of surprise, pressing her body against him as he started trailing kisses down her neck while she pretended to be oblivious. "I thought we were just going to stay here to eat."

"Oh, come on now, Syd," Vaughn suddenly stopped as he reached her collarbone to look at her. "You agreed to go on a date with me the next time we were in Rome and I'm holding you to your word." 

A look of confusion passed across her lovely face and then it cleared. "You're taking me to Trattoria di Nardi?" She squealed delightedly.

Vaughn wished Sydney could always be as happy as she looked at that moment, her face lit up and her eyes aglow. "Where else would we go, but my favorite restaurant in all of Italy?"

"Oh, Michael!" She threw her arms around his neck and held him close. "If I ever needed any proof of why I love you so much, this is it." Sydney pulled back and kissed him long and hard on the mouth.

"And if I ever needed any proof, that kiss sealed it right there." Vaughn smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. "Now come on, why don't you hop in that shower and get ready while I go downstairs to confirm our reservation?"

Sydney suddenly frowned. "Michael, I just realized I didn't bring a thing to wear! At least, not anything special."

He gave her a mischievous look. "Oh, I think if you check your bag, you might find something." 

She eyed him shrewdly. "You've been planning this ever since Irina told us we were coming to Rome, haven't you?"

"Guilty." He admitted.

"How did you call to make the reservation? You didn't use one of the phones in her house, did you?" Sydney looked alarmed. "Michael, if Irina knows about this, she'll have told Sark and he'll follow us!"

"Relax, Sydney," Vaughn said soothingly. "I snagged Sark's cell phone one day when I was rummaging through his closet for something to wear. By the time he gets the bill and sees the number, we'll either be home or in Moscow and it'll be too late for them to do anything about it then."

Sydney smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Ingenious, Agent Vaughn."

Vaughn grinned. "Now get going!" He patted her on the behind to move her along.

_To be continued_…


	16. Phone Home

**Author's Note**: I have to take a little break from the shippy stuff to further the plot along.  I originally planned to write the entire night as one chapter, but the date part is pretty lengthy and it doesn't really fit in with the plot stuff, anyway.  So you're getting a short chapter now with lots of romantic fluffiness to follow (some time later in the week since I didn't get a chance to post this one until today).

Thanks to all the people who keep reading and reviewing.  I'm not expecting a lot of feedback for this chapter since it's mostly dialogue and not a lot of action, but it would be nice to hear from you if you have something to say.

See ya later!

*     *     *     *     *  

Sydney was admiring herself in the mirror above the dresser while Vaughn was in the bathroom finishing getting dressed. She was wearing a sweet and sexy little red chiffon dress that skimmed just above her knee and clung to her figure in all the right places. The neckline that dipped right above her cleavage was edged with a wispy little ruffle that trailed over her shoulders light-as-air and down her back to form a deep U, showing off a tantalizing expanse of her smooth, tanned skin. She smiled to herself as she glossed her lips. Vaughn had made a perfect choice. 

She heard the shower go off in the bathroom (they had kept it on continuously while they were getting dressed to go out) and turned around. Vaughn stood in the doorway looking amazingly handsome, his white shirt casually open at the neck in stark contrast to his well-cut black jacket. His beautiful green eyes leisurely surveyed her body up and down and Sydney felt a little lightning bolt of desire shoot through her.

Vaughn was afraid Sydney would be embarrassed if he stared so openly at her, but he couldn't help it. She looked absolutely stunning in her little red dress, her skin looking like the softest velvet and her bare legs seeming to go on forever. She was gazing at him with an undisguised yearning in her eyes and it took every ounce of willpower he had to resist the pull of her considerable charms. He had planned this night for her because he knew how much she wanted their first time together to be something they would never forget and he intended to make her wish come true.

"Sydney, you look beautiful." Vaughn walked over to her and took her into his arms, her body melding against his in a perfect fit.

She smiled. "You have good taste in clothes."

"And women." He added, leaning in to kiss her. She tasted like strawberries and he told her so.

"It's my lip gloss, which you just ruined, thank you very much." Sydney said teasingly. She reached around him to grab her lip gloss from the dresser and twisted around in his arms to face the mirror.

"I hope that's not a complaint." Vaughn quipped, keeping his arms around her waist as he stood behind her to trail kisses down her neck and along her shoulders while she reapplied her makeup. The fragrance of her skin was intoxicating to him.

"Nope, you can ruin my lip gloss anytime." She grinned at him in the mirror and deposited the little tube of gloss into her purse. She mouthed her next words to him. _Are we ready_?

Vaughn nodded. He went over to the door and opened it, sticking his head out to look both ways down the corridor. When he saw that the coast was clear, he beckoned to her with his hand and she followed him out.

They took the elevator down to the lobby, but instead of exiting through the hotel entrance like everyone else, they went through a door marked "Employees Only." This door led them into a large break room with various corridors shooting off into a number of different directions. Vaughn had already scouted the area and knew that the offices were down one hallway, the kitchen was down the other and the linen closet was somewhere in-between. Across the room and directly opposite from where they were standing was the employee's entrance from the street. They encountered no one except for a curious housekeeper who didn't say a word as the couple slipped out the door.

Laughing and giddy at successfully eluding Sark, Sydney and Vaughn left the hotel grounds on foot. They wanted to find a phone, first of all, and then they would catch a taxi away from the hotel to get to the restaurant.

Hand in hand, the couple came upon a public square. There was an outdoor café with many people sitting around, drinking and laughing and telling stories. A huge fountain sat in the middle of the square and there were children climbing up along the base or feeding the flock of pigeons that had congregated along the perimeter of the café, hoping for some crumbs. It was a very relaxed and laidback atmosphere.

"Michael, there's a payphone over there!" Sydney pointed and the two of them quickly crossed the square. Vaughn had exchanged some euro notes for coins when he went to go check on their dinner reservations, so he had plenty of change for what was sure to be an expensive long-distance call. 

Since it was still mid-morning in L.A., Vaughn was sure that Devlin would be in his office by now. He bypassed the operator and dialed directly through to Devlin's secretary. 

"Good morning, Mr. Devlin's office." The perky voice on the other end of the line didn't sound familiar to him. She was probably a fill-in from the secretarial pool.

"This is Agent Michael Vaughn. I need to speak to the Director right away." Vaughn spoke clearly and concisely into the phone.

"Agent Vaughn?" The woman sounded stunned. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, it is really me." Vaughn replied. "Will you please put me through to Devlin?" A hint of impatience crept into his voice.

"I'm sorry, Agent Vaughn." She chirped happily. "It's just that everyone was under the impression that you and Agent Bristow were imprisoned in some unknown location."

"Well, we're not any longer." He said curtly. "Agent Bristow is with me and I need to speak to Devlin now." Didn't this woman understand the urgency of his call?

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Agent Vaughn." She said cheerfully. "He's not here."

"What do you mean he's not there?" Vaughn practically shouted into the phone.

"He left for Washington D.C. yesterday, Agent Vaughn. Top-level meetings and such." The woman explained in an uncertain tone of voice. "I suppose I could try to track him down for you--" She said dubiously.

"No, no, don't do that!" This girl sounded as if she had the IQ of a gnat. She probably wouldn't be able to find Devlin if she had the phone number right in front of her. "What about Agent Weiss? Is he there?"

"No, he's not here, either." The secretary sounded positively gleeful now. "Agent Weiss is on assignment out of the country."

Vaughn swore under his breath. He covered his hand over the receiver and looked at Sydney. "Devlin's in Washington and Weiss is on assignment out of the country. I don't know who else I could talk to."

"What about my father?" Sydney whispered.

Vaughn shook his head. "We don't acknowledge your father's existence to anyone calling from the outside, Sydney, and that includes our own agents. He's a double and obviously, it would be very dangerous for him if someone could just call in and be immediately patched through to him." He told her. "It's the same with you."

She nodded meekly, wondering why she didn't think of that herself. A frustrated Vaughn hung up before Little Mary Sunshine suggested he talk to Agent Haladki.

"Now what?" He queried her, obviously miffed.

"Where did they say Devlin was?"

"Washington D.C." He gave a dismissive shrug. "Meetings of some sort."

"Can we try to contact him there?"

"And get the same sort of runaround we got in L.A.?" Vaughn raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "I don't even know where he is in Washington and I know that twit who answered the phone wouldn't have a clue." An inspiration suddenly hit him. "Let me try Weiss' cell." He punched in the number while Sydney waited expectantly.

"_I'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service_. _If you would like_--" Vaughn groaned and hung up the phone rather noisily. "Damn it!"

"What is it?"

"His number's been disconnected." Vaughn shook his head. "He has this thing about constantly switching phone companies in order to get the best deal. Never mind that no one can actually reach him because he keeps changing his goddamned phone number!" His voice rose heatedly.

Sydney laid a soothing hand on his arm. "Michael, how about I try my dad's number?" She suggested mildly. "He's had the same one for ages." 

There was a momentary delay as her request was being transferred through phone lines and up to satellites, but then Sydney heard her father's gruff hello and she nearly burst into tears.

"Yes?" Jack's voice came over the line in his familiar clipped manner.

"Daddy?" She gave a little sob.

"Sydney?" Her father gasped. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me!" She shouted, barely able to hear him. "Dad, can you hear me? Michael and I are in Rome, Italy!"

"_What_?" There was a terrible amount of line noise. "Sydney…about to…board…plane!"

"What? Hello? Hello!" There was no reply on the other end of the line and she slammed the phone back onto the hook. "We got disconnected!" Sydney wailed. Having finally achieved contact with someone from her life back home, she was now the one who was all upset.

Sydney immediately redialed, but the phone rang and rang until it finally went into voicemail and she heard the vaguely robotic voice of a woman telling her that the cellular customer was unavailable. All Sydney could do was to leave her father a message telling him that they were in Rome and that she would try back again later if she could. She didn't dare tell him where they were staying because if her father came storming into the hotel to try to find her, Sark would realize that she had somehow managed to contact him and tip him off as to their whereabouts and all of their careful planning would go up in smoke.

"You can try again later, Syd." Vaughn said, much calmer now. "Did he say anything when you told him where we were?"

"No, he was saying something about boarding a plane." Sydney looked piqued. "God, I can't believe this, Michael! In this modern age of technology, don't you think we could at least manage to perfect the simple act of talking to someone on the phone?"

She gave him a desperate look. "What about if we call Headquarters again? Can't we give them our CIA ID numbers to prove who we are?"  
  


"Not good enough." Vaughn shook his head. "Numbers can be hacked."

She pressed her lips together in frustration. "You know what the CIA needs to do?"

Vaughn shot her an amused look. It tickled him when Sydney's hackles were raised. "No, what?"

"They need to ask us all a question to which only we would know the answer." Her brows knit together in a grim line. "You know, like the kind they ask you when you forget a computer password?"

"Like 'What's the name of your pet?'" He grinned.

"What's your favorite color? Who's your favorite sports team? How old were you when you lost your virginity?" She fumed in a loud voice. "That damned employee profile they make you fill out when you join the Agency is already about five hundred pages long." She said exaggeratedly. "Why couldn't they substitute one of those questions with that dumb one about the name of your second-grade teacher?"

Vaughn laughed. _God, she was beautiful_! A becoming color flushed her cheeks and her brown eyes were fiery and determined. "How about, 'Whom would you most like to kiss at this very moment?'" He gazed at her with an adoring look on his face.

Sydney stared at him in mid-rant. "Michael, why are you not being serious about this?" She demanded. "This is our freedom we're talking about!"

His face softened. "Let's call a time out, Syd." He dragged her away from the phone and around the corner into a deserted alleyway.

"Sweetie, I know it's disheartening, but it's looking more and more likely that things aren't going to work out the way we planned." Vaughn reached up to tuck away a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. "You know what the deal is. If we can't reach someone who will vouch for us, we'll have no chance at all against someone who doesn't know us from Adam."

Sydney let out a frustrated sob. "But I want to go home!" She whined, knowing she sounded like a recalcitrant six-year-old.

"I know, Sydney." He said soothingly. "I do, too, but we just might have to wait until next time."

"Next time!" She exclaimed in such a way that an amused Vaughn imagined her physically restraining herself from stamping her foot like a child who wasn't getting her way. "That means Irina will get what she wants _this_ time!"

"Hey, I'm not crazy about handing over that painting to her myself, but if we do this and we're successful, she'll let us go out again and we'll have another shot at getting away from her." Vaughn traced a finger along her cheek to ease the tight set of her jaw.

Sydney gave him a look of resignation. "Maybe it wasn't meant to be this time."

"Look, we'll try your dad again in a couple of hours." He suggested. "Maybe his plane will have landed by then and we'll get a better connection."

"Okay." She nodded reluctantly.

"In the meantime," Vaughn tried to coax a smile out of her by kissing her softly on her forehead and then on the corner of her mouth. "You and I will have to do our best to eat, drink and be merry." He placed another butterfly kiss along the curve of her cheekbone.

It seemed to do the trick because she had a little smile on her face as he pulled away. "I admit I do want to find out if your restaurant is as good as you've been raving about." A bit of sparkle was back in her eyes.

"Well, then let's go." He planted one more kiss on her irresistibly full lips and then took her hand. "The proof is in the pasta."

_To be continued_…


	17. A Night to Remember

**Author's Note**: Okay, here's the romantic fluff I've been promising you.  It's a definite **R**-rating towards the end.  Please read at your own discretion and don't forget to review!

*     *     *     *     *

The taxi dropped them off outside of Trattoria di Nardi. Vaughn took Sydney's hand as they crossed the street and she could see through the large plate-glass picture windows that the restaurant was packed with a noisy, boisterous crowd. It was mostly families with children of all ages but there were a few couples scattered about the room. As they reached the doorway, the sounds of lively chatter and raucous laughter hit their ears.

Sydney smiled to herself. It was nice to see people talking and laughing and enjoying some good food, especially after being subjected to the torture that was every mealtime with Irina and Sark for the past few weeks. Her eyes grew wide as she caught glimpses of what the waiters were carrying on their serving trays as they came out of the kitchen. Everything she saw looked mouthwateringly delicious and she suddenly realized she was starving. They hadn't had anything to eat since they'd met with Sark earlier that morning.

The restaurant was housed in a two-story building, sandwiched between an upscale-looking delicatessen and a bookstore. Vaughn had told her that there were dining areas on both floors with a more family-style downstairs and a slightly more sedate one upstairs. Not that Sydney didn't enjoy listening to all the conversations going on around her, but she wanted to be able to actually hear herself speak during their first romantic dinner together, so she hoped Vaughn had made their reservations for the quieter room.

The mustachioed maître d' greeted Vaughn with a companionable shaking of hands as if they were old friends. Sydney stood off to the side as Vaughn had a brief conversation with the man, who nodded profusely and then invited them to follow him up the stairs.

The second floor was in direct contrast to the first. Whereas downstairs the décor was homey and comfortable with its hardwood floors, bench-style seating and Chianti-bottle candles, the upstairs was stylish and tasteful. The walls were painted a pale apricot, which created a muted backdrop for the picturesque pastels that were hung about the room. The lighting was softer and more romantic. Each table was graced by two high-backed chairs covered in an apricot moiré, the fabric on the chairs matching perfectly with the silk tablecloths. Sydney noted with delight that all of the tables held a small vase of fresh flowers and two apricot-colored tapered candles in gleaming silver candlesticks. The effect was lovely and tranquil.

Sydney was eager to sit down, but apparently the maître d' had other ideas. He headed for another staircase and Vaughn, who was holding her hand, followed him. She had no choice but to go along, although not without a bit of trepidation. She had seen from the outside that it was only a two-story building. The only place left for them to go was the roof.

The maître d' opened the door at the top of the staircase and stepped outside. Abnormally cautious in all aspects of her life, Sydney felt a little apprehensive as she climbed the second stairway, but of course, she knew that Vaughn would never do anything that would put her in harm's way. If they were headed for the roof, there must be a good reason for it.

"Michael, why are we going to the roof?" She whispered to him.

He turned his head and grinned down at her. "You'll see." He said mysteriously.

_Okay, so that was a totally unsatisfactory answer_, she thought to herself. Then she reached the top step and her mouth dropped open in awe. It was as if she had been transported into a fantasy world.

The ground was scattered with pink rose petals, their sweet fragrance mingling with the scent of orange blossoms in the air. English ivy intertwined with bright magenta bougainvillea trailed along the aged gray brick low walls, softening the glow emanating from the colorful Japanese rice paper lanterns that had been hung at various intervals around the perimeter of the roof. Sydney loved the candles, fat beeswax pillars in all shapes and sizes that sat atop three black wrought iron candle stands, each placed strategically around a single table that had been decked out most beautifully with a mauve silk tablecloth, gleaming white china, crystal goblets and sterling silver place settings. Italian love songs were playing softly through the hidden stereo speakers and the moon was high and full above their heads. It was the perfect romantic setting.

Vaughn looked entirely too pleased with himself, but in this instance, it was justified. "Sydney, what do you think?" He gave her a broad smile.

"Oh, Michael!" Sydney murmured, her eyes filling up with tears. She threw herself into his arms.

She felt his laughter rumble deep within his chest. "I swear, Syd, you cry at the drop of a hat." He teased her, his arms holding her tight.

"These are happy tears, Michael." Sydney said haughtily and then giggled as she wiped at her eyes. "This is so beautiful. How did you ever manage it?"

"Well, let's sit down and I'll tell you." Vaughn led her over to the table and pulled out her chair. The maître d' had discreetly slipped back downstairs after fixing their pre-dinner cocktails, so they were all alone.

"So spill it." Sydney ordered him, taking a sip of her Mimosa. The bubbles from the champagne tickled her nose, but she didn't care because it tasted heavenly.

"It's not such a big deal." He shrugged modestly.

"Oh, please, Michael." She scolded him mildly, not buying his humble act for a moment. "Is this set-up always up here or did they put it together just for you?" She asked curiously.

"Well, as much as I'd like to say that I would rate such special treatment, to be honest, it's actually a permanent fixture of the restaurant." He told her. "It all came about after Gianni proposed to his girlfriend up here."

"Gianni?"

"The maître d." Vaughn replied. "It's kind of a long story, but the gist of it is that when he was planning to propose, he wanted to do it in a really unique way. So he came up with the idea for a romantic midnight supper at his favorite restaurant. The chef prepared an elaborate meal and Gianni had this entire rooftop decked out with hundreds of lilacs, which was his girlfriend's favorite flower."

"Very sweet." Sydney murmured.

"Of course she said yes and when they came back from their honeymoon, Gianni's wife came up with the idea that other couples might like to re-create the scene for themselves." Vaughn met Sydney's gaze with an indescribable look in his eyes. "Ever since then, it's become a rather popular spot for marriage proposals. At least one a week."

Sydney felt the urge to blush. Why was he bringing _that_ up again? She hurriedly sought to change the subject. "Wouldn't a reservation up here be booked months in advance? How did you manage to get one with only a few days notice?" She asked, a bit incredulously. 

"You're impressed, aren't you?" Vaughn grinned at her. "Actually, the real story is that my mom and I got to know the owners pretty well because we used to come here a lot on vacation when we lived in France."

"When did you live in France?" She asked, surprised that she was only finding this out about him now. 

"After my dad died, my mom took me back to France to live for three years. I guess she wanted to leave behind all the bad memories." He confided. "During that time we would travel around Europe when I wasn't in school and since Italy is right next to France, it was easy to get to by train. We'd always come to Rome and when we did, we always came here."

"Of course, we always ate in the family restaurant downstairs, but I knew they had this place up here because Emilio, one of the owners, brought us up here once." 

"Was Emilio downstairs when we came in?"

"He was probably in the kitchen. Emilio's the chef." Vaughn replied. "Gianni is his partner and also his brother-in-law."

"Oh." Sydney nodded and then marveled once again at their surroundings. "So you remembered this from when you were a little kid, huh?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "I never thought I would actually bring someone here, though." He looked a bit shy.

"Little boys don't think about things like girls and romance, do they?" She teased him.

"Oh, God, no!" Vaughn screwed up his face distastefully and Sydney caught a glimpse of what he must have looked like as a kid. "Of course, now that I've gotten older, I've come to realize the error of my ways." He gave her a sexy grin.

"Oh, so we're not so bad to have around, after all, are we?" Her lips curved into a seductive smile.

"I think I'll keep you." He nodded with a straight face. Then he raised his glass to her. "Let's make a toast."

"To what?" Sydney asked, raising her glass.

Vaughn looked thoughtful. "A night to remember." He finally said.

They clinked glasses. "I like that." Sydney said softly.

Vaughn had already discussed the menu with Emilio and they had decided on the chef's very best dishes. Fresh crusty bread was brought out for dipping in little dishes of flavorful olive oil. Risotto with porcini mushrooms came next followed by fettucine with basil pesto and crab-stuffed ravioli in a white wine cream sauce. Their main courses were shrimp scampi for Sydney and _bistecca_ (steak) for Vaughn. Wine flowed throughout the meal, although well within moderation. A luscious cannoli cake with chocolate gelato topped off the sumptuously rich feast.  

"I swear I will never eat another bite as long as I live." Sydney sat back in her chair, feeling stuffed but happy. "Why did you let me eat so much?"

"As if I could have stopped you." Vaughn retorted, an amused look on his face. "I hope food isn't the only thing for which you have an insatiable appetite."

Sydney hid a smirk. "That one is too easy, Agent Vaughn, so I'm letting it pass."

"Damn, maybe I should keep my innuendoes to myself." He grinned and then stood up. "Come on, Syd, let's work off some of those calories we consumed tonight." Vaughn held out his hand to her.

"Are you going to make me do stomach crunches in this dress?" She lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a dance." Vaughn corrected her.

Sydney's lips curved into a smile. "Would this be our first?" She placed her hand in his and stood up.

"I believe it would be." He placed a hand on her bare back and she pressed her body against his.

For a brief moment in time, everything else ceased to exist. They forgot about Irina and Sark and the mission and simply concentrated on the one thing in the world that was most important to them.

Each other. 

*     *     *     *     *

When they left the restaurant, it was still full to capacity with people even though it was going on eleven-thirty at night. After showering Emilio and Gianni with effusive praise and thanks, Sydney and Vaughn started down the sidewalk, not really knowing where they were going to go next.

Vaughn had suggested they go to the swankiest, most exclusive hotel in Rome where they could be pampered with sunken tubs and satin sheets and little mints on their pillows, but Sydney didn't want that. As she had been saying all along, she wanted their first time together to be magical and special and unique and going to some cookie-cutter chain hotel was not going to cut it. 

"Sydney, you know we can't walk the streets of Rome all night." Vaughn pointed out to her. "It's already pretty late as it is to expect a room for the night and you know people are going to be looking at us funny, anyway, when they see we don't have any bags with us."

"Just a few more blocks, Michael." Sydney said cajolingly. "Emilio said there were a couple of bed & breakfast inns down this street."

Vaughn gave in as she knew he would. As they were passing by a house-turned-B&B, Sydney caught a glimpse of the sign posted above the doorway. The words were in Italian, hand-painted in a fancy black script, and she couldn't believe her eyes when she figured out the translation.

"Michael, what do you think of that?" She pointed triumphantly as they stood outside of a neatly painted ochre yellow building with white trim. There were two lovely stained glass windows on either side of a heavy walnut door with an etched-glass inset, whose design was in the shape of a rose in full bloom.

Vaughn looked up and read the sign with an incredulous expression on his face. "Does that say what I think it says?"

"'The Inn of the Red-Haired Lady.'" Sydney read aloud. "If that isn't a sign, I don't know what is."

"It is sort of prophetic, given our history." He admitted. "Although I doubt the red hair in question will be the same color as Bozo's."

Sydney rolled her eyes at him. "The lights are still on." She gestured. "Let's give it a shot." She walked up to the door and gave a sharp tap. They waited for a few moments until they finally heard someone coming to the door.

The woman who answered the door did not have red hair, much to their disappointment. On the contrary, hers was a combination of black threaded with strands of gray and held back in a bun. Her figure was buxom and voluptuous, her skin tanned to a light copper color. The face that looked back at them was broad with a wide mouth and strong features. She might have appeared stern if it weren't for the smile lines that crinkled around her eyes.

"_Buon notte_, I am Nicoletta Bertolucci." The woman said in a rapid-fire Italian. "Can I help you?"

"_Buon notte_, Signora Bertolucci. I realize it is late, but we were wondering if you had a room available." Sydney spoke in her most polite fashion.

Signora Bertolucci cast a sweeping glance at the young couple who stood before her. She was quick to note that they did not have anything with them but the clothes on their backs and that fact dismayed her a little. She ran a reputable establishment; her B&B was not a rent-by-the-hour den of iniquity.

But then she saw the looks on their faces. The lovely young woman was absolutely radiant with a high color in her cheeks as she gave her young man a ridiculously happy grin. The handsome man was smiling back at her, an adoring expression in his eyes. Her heart went out to them. Such a beautiful couple and so much in love. They reminded her very much of herself and her beloved Carlo, God rest his soul.

"_Si_, I have several rooms available." Signora Bertolucci opened the door a little wider. "Please come in."

The foyer was set up as a lobby with a high counter, a computer and various office supplies littering the desk. To the right was the dining room and to the left was the parlor. The kitchen looked to be down the hallway towards the back. Tossing around a few casual glances, Sydney could see that the decorating scheme leaned towards being simple yet elegant.

The main focal point of the foyer was the painting that hung above the check-in desk. It was a portrait of a strikingly beautiful woman in a white lace dress, her most arresting feature being a luxuriant cascade of glorious red hair. Of course, it looked nothing like Sydney's version of Bozo red, but instead was a mass of auburn curls framing a heart-shaped face, emerald eyes and full, sensuous lips.

"Is that the woman for which the inn is named?" Sydney asked.

Signora Bertolucci smiled. "_Si_, my great-grandmother, Maria Concetta Cabrini. She is beautiful, _no_?"

"She's stunning." Vaughn couldn't help but stare. Sydney would have felt a little put-out if it had been a real woman, but a portrait she could deal with. She settled for lightly kicking him in the shin with the toe of her high-heeled shoe, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. "Oh, right, you said you had a room available?" He went up to the counter, taking his wallet out of his pocket.

"_Si_, how long do you plan on staying?" The proprietress asked as she went behind the counter. It was then that she noticed the gold band on the young man's left hand. That made her feel a little better. Perhaps they were newlyweds who had simply decided to act on a crazy impulse to spend a night away from their ritzy but staid honeymoon suite in one of those big, impersonal hotels that catered to the _turistas_. 

"Just one night." Vaughn replied and then lowered his voice. "Would you happen to have a really special room available? Something like a honeymoon suite?"

Signora Bertolucci smiled, pleased that she had guessed correctly. "I have a room that will be perfect for you, Signor--?" She ended her statement questioningly.

"Vaughn." He said without thinking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sydney freeze in place where she was standing. Luckily, Signora Bertolucci was filling out his receipt, so she didn't see the slightly panicked look on his face. He shot Sydney a sideways glance and gave her an _Oops_!-look.

"First name?" Signora Bertolucci asked.

Vaughn hesitated almost a second too long before Sydney stepped in. "Michael." She replied briskly. "Michael and Sydney Vaughn." As soon as she uttered those words, it hit her that it was the first time she had ever strung those names together as a combined entity. Girls always did weird things like that with their boyfriend's names, wondering how their first name would look with his last name if they ever got married. She herself had spent an entire hour trying to decide if she wanted to be known as "Sydney Hecht" or "Sydney Bristow Hecht" when she and Danny had gotten engaged. Hyphen? No hyphen? Should she just scrap it all and keep her maiden name?

Unhappily for her, Sydney never got the chance to make any of those decisions and so she hadn't played her silly name game again until just that moment. _Sydney Vaughn_. _Sydney Bristow Vaughn_. _Mrs_. _Michael Vaughn_. She had to admit that they all sounded like the sweetest thing on earth.

Vaughn shot her a nervous look and Sydney wondered if he thought she was sending him a gigantic hint that she wanted him to propose. After that whole ruckus with Irina's fake engagement ring, what if he was thinking that she now had marriage on the brain? Not that the thought had never crossed her mind, but she certainly didn't want him to feel pressured into asking her.

Signora Bertolucci quoted the price of the room to Vaughn and after he paid in cash (using up a good chunk of the money Irina had given them for miscellaneous expenses), she went upstairs to prepare the room for guests. When they were alone, Vaughn went over to Sydney.

"Sydney, I'm sorry, I blew it." He looked agitated. "It's just that tonight has all been about you and me, not two made-up French people named François and Amélie. I guess I just had a brain freeze."

She laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Michael, it's all right. In a way, I'm kind of glad you slipped up because it means that everything that happens tonight belongs to Michael and Sydney. It's real and it's ours and no one can ever take the memories away from us." She gave him a tender smile.

The hard line of Vaughn's jaw softened and he kissed her. "So you're not mad I screwed up?"

Sydney suddenly had an epiphany. "Is that why you looked so anxious?" She asked. "Because you thought I'd be mad at you?"

"Well…"

She let out a nervous giggle. "Oh, Michael, I thought you were freaking out when I said my name was Sydney Vaughn."

"Why would I be freaked out about that?" Vaughn raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "I kind of like the way that sounds." He smiled.

Sydney always melted when he said sweet things like that. "Me too."

Sydney looked so kissable at that moment, he had to act on it. They were still lip-locked when Signora Bertolucci came back downstairs.

"_Scusi_, but your room is ready now." The older woman tried to hold back a smile.

They followed her up to the third floor. Signora Bertolucci led them to a closed wooden door at the end of the hallway and then handed Vaughn the key.

"The bed has fresh linens and there are clean towels in the bathroom." She said to them. "You are my only guests at the moment and I get up early, so if you would like breakfast in the morning, the kitchen will be available between six and ten."

"_Grazie_, Signora Bertolucci." Vaughn smiled at her. "You've been very kind."

Signora Bertolucci thought she was too old to be swayed by a young man's charms, but she was surprised to feel a fluttering in her chest. _Signora Vaughn is a very lucky woman_, she thought to herself with some amusement as she went downstairs to lock up for the night.

"So are you ready to see what we've gotten ourselves into?" Vaughn asked, waggling the key in front of her face.

Sydney blushed. "Michael, don't tease me." She scolded him.

"Well, come on now, Syd, we don't know what's behind this door." His green eyes twinkled. "It could be all black Goth or sickly-sweet pastels or done up in a hideous mustard yellow and magenta color scheme." He pretended to look horrified.

"If you continue to make fun of me, maybe all we'll do in there is _sleep_!" She said, mock-threateningly. "If our eyes are closed, we won't have to look at the walls or the furniture or the rugs." She made a face at him.

Vaughn regarded her drolly. "We'll turn out the lights if we have to, but we _are_ going to do something else besides sleep in there." He said with a lascivious leer and then inserted the key into the lock. 

Signora Bertolucci had thoughtfully lit the candles that had been placed on the mantelpiece and coffee table and in other spots throughout the room, so they were not in complete darkness when Vaughn opened the door. He flipped the light switch and Sydney let out an audible gasp when she stepped across the threshold.

It was exactly as she had hoped. The paper on the walls was a cream moiré print with a walnut chair rail to complement the antique chairs, which were covered in a pale green tapestry design. Moonlight filtered in through the sheer organdy curtains that billowed softly at the open floor-to-ceiling windows, the sage green velvet draperies still held in place by matching tiebacks. The ceilings were high with a gorgeously beaded chandelier hanging in the middle of the room, its light giving off a soft radiance. Sydney loved the dark wood of the fireplace with its brass fire screen fanned out like peacock feathers and almost wished it were cold enough so that they could build a roaring fire by which to warm themselves.

The highlight of the room, of course, was the beautifully appointed four-poster bed, which was scattered with pretty little throw pillows on top of a fluffy goosedown duvet. Sydney's eyes lit up at the sight of the romantic silk canopy over the bed. The cream-colored cloth was draped along each side like parade bunting in order to hide the wooden framework of the bed. At all four corners, a long swath of fabric fell from the ceiling to the floor, loosely gathered at each bedpost by a white tassel.

Sydney turned around to look at Vaughn, who had a silly grin on his face. He pretty much liked the way it looked himself.

"Oh, Michael, it's gorgeous!" Sydney started to tear up again. Had she ever been this happy before in her life?

"Syd, you're doing it again." He chuckled softly as he kissed away the tear that fell onto her cheek.

"I know, and I don't know why I'm getting all weepy these days." She touched his face with a gentle caress. "I guess it's because I know I have found the love of my life and every moment we get to spend together is so precious to me."

He gave her a tender look. "We both have experienced a great deal of loss in our lives, Sydney." Vaughn said soberly, taking her hand away from his face to kiss it. "But we've been able to bounce back from it stronger and wiser and with a keener sense of awareness of what it means to live every day of your life to the fullest because we know better than anyone that it could all be taken away in an instant."

He suddenly gave her an embarrassed grin. "I don't mean to be putting out a depressing vibe here, but I'm just trying to tell you what the past few weeks have meant to me." Vaughn gazed deeply into her eyes. "Syd, I don't know what lies in store for us tomorrow or next week or next year, but I do know one thing."

"I will always love you and I will treasure every second that we are able to spend together." He tipped her chin up with his finger and kissed her, marveling for the millionth time that this ravishing, glorious creature loved him.

Some time later, while Sydney went into the bathroom to splash some cool water on her face to get rid of her teary eyes, Vaughn took the time to set up the room to his liking. He extinguished the chandelier as well as a few of the candles but decided to leave the drapes alone because he liked the way the moonlight hit the bed with a silvery incandescence. Luckily, the building across the way was dark and he hoped the blinds would remain drawn. 

Next he went over to the bed to remove some of the pillows and turn down the covers. Vaughn noted the luxurious silk sheets with approval and also perked up when he noticed the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket on the nightstand. 

The bathroom door opened behind him and he turned around. The room was bathed in a glow halfway between light and shadow as Sydney slipped out of her strappy high heels, holding onto the doorframe for support. She was barefoot as she walked over to him and while he had to admit the heels were sexy, there was just something about the way she moved with a quiet catlike grace that got to him.

"I like what you did with the room." Sydney dropped her shoes on the floor with a dull thud.

"It has a certain ambiance." Vaughn agreed as he handed her a single red rose.

She smiled as she accepted his offering. "Where did you get this from?"

"It was in the vase by the bed next to the bottle of champagne."

Sydney cut her eyes over his shoulder for a moment and then met his gaze again, her eyes all lit up. "Did you ask Signora Bertolucci to do all this?" She looked touched.

"Actually, I think it comes with the honeymoon suite." Vaughn was ecstatic that Sydney was so obviously delighted. 

"Oh, Michael," She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. As their kiss grew deeper and their longing for each other intensified, the rose fluttered heedlessly from her fingertips. Sydney moaned as she felt his hands gently slipping her dress off her shoulders, the wispy material falling to the floor as quietly as an autumn leaf fell from a tree. Her bare skin felt cool and hot at the same time and even through her lust-filled haze, Sydney became aware that Vaughn was still wearing way too many items of clothing. She responded by removing him from the constraints of his jacket, allowing her fingers to dance along the solid muscle of his arms beneath his shirt. As Vaughn's lips trailed down her neck, Sydney could no longer stand it and she hurriedly tore at the buttons on his shirt. Then her hand reached for his belt buckle.

Within a few brief moments, they were both undressed. Hands explored and lips caressed. Vaughn found her mouth again and covered it with his own. Every nerve ending in her body felt as if it were on fire at the merest touch of skin against skin. Sydney felt herself being lifted into his strong arms as he carried her over to the bed, placing her gently onto the silken sheets. Vaughn gazed down at her body, which alternated between silver in the moonlight and gold in the candlelight, all rounded curves and long limbs and soft skin. Desire coursed through his veins as he watched Sydney reach up with outstretched arms to invite him into her body. They came together with an exquisite frenzy of ecstasy and passion intermingled with a deep feeling of love and tenderness.

Afterwards, they laid together in each other's arms, feeling utterly blissful and contented. What had just transpired between them had been worth all the months of waiting and every minute of their mutual frustration over wanting to consummate their relationship.

"In case I didn't say it earlier, Michael, I wanted to thank you for tonight." Sydney murmured. Her head was resting on the crook of his shoulder, her arm curled possessively around his waist.

"Hey, I'm all for giving props where props are due, but I have to admit I wasn't performing a selfless act of kindness here." She wasn't looking at him, but she could tell that he was grinning by the sound of his voice. "I received quite a bit of enjoyment from our…_activities_ myself."

"I'm not talking about _that_!" Sydney swatted at his stomach in a playful gesture. "I was talking about the entire evening, starting with that amazing dinner you put together in the most gorgeous setting imaginable." She gave a sigh.  
  
"I was right about the food, wasn't I?" Vaughn sounded a bit smug.

_Just like a man to insist on being told he was dead-on about something_, Sydney stifled a grin. _Oh, well, it wouldn't hurt to agree just this once_. "The food was to die for." She praised him dutifully. "And then you found us this beautiful room. It is everything I could have hoped for and I'm so glad that our first time together was exactly how we wanted it to be."

"Well, I can't take all the credit for that." He said modestly. "You're the one who found the inn."

"Okay, so it was a joint effort." She amended. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm happy we made it just about us, Michael. We didn't let any outside forces intrude upon what is probably the single most important moment in any committed relationship."

"I know how much tonight meant to you, Sydney, and I wanted it to be as perfect as I could make it." He kissed the top of her head. 

"That's why I love you so much." Sydney snuggled next to him. "You make all of my dreams come true."

Vaughn smiled to himself. Everything he had ever wanted was right here in his arms. Sydney was a strong, capable and intelligent woman, who just happened to have the ability to kick the ass of any person who dared to cross her. If he added in the fact that she was beautiful and sweet and unbelievably sexy with the cutest dimples he had ever seen…well, he just might have thought he'd found the perfect woman. And if that was the case, then it made him the luckiest man alive.

"Sydney?" He uttered her name softly, his fingers wandering idly down her bare back just because they could.

"Yes, Michael?" The gentle caress of his hand was relaxing her to the point of drowsiness.

"Do you remember how I told you earlier today that I've never proposed to anyone before?" Vaughn wondered if she could feel how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

Sydney's own heart skipped a beat as she lifted her head to look at him. "I remember." She whispered, suddenly wide awake.

His beautiful green eyes gazed deeply into her brown ones. "What would you say if I said I wanted to end my thirty-three-year-old streak of Never-Having-Made-a-Marriage-Proposal?"

She found herself speechless for a few moments. "Well, if you're thinking about asking someone who's not in this room, I don't think I'd like that idea very much." She finally found her voice, but the only thing she could do was make a joke.

Vaughn gave her a grin. "Not only is she in this room, but she's also in this bed."

Sydney's face broke out into a tremulous little smile. "Think you can narrow it down a little more?"

"Well, you are the only woman in this bed." He pointed out with a teasing look and then grew serious. "Sydney Bristow, I love you more than I ever thought I could love another person and I would be honored if you would agree to become my wife."

_My wife_. Were there any two sweeter words ever spoken? Sydney's heart grew full as she felt a rush of love for this wonderful man lying next to her. "Yes, Michael Vaughn, I will marry you."

_To be continued_…


	18. The Morning After

**Author's Note**:Beginning is slightly **R**-rated.  Please read at your own discretion.

*     *     *     *     *

A shaft of morning sunlight filtered into the room through the open curtains, hitting Michael Vaughn squarely in one eye. It was enough to rouse him from the best night of sleep he'd had in weeks and he groaned, turning over onto his side. He tried to go back to the dream he'd been awakened from, but it was no use. He let out a mildly irritated sigh and opened his eyes. What he saw made him realize that it hadn't been a dream.

Sydney was lying beside him in bed, the sheets tangled around her body rather enticingly. The sexy curve of one of her legs peeked out from beneath the pale gold silk while the rest of her was discreetly covered up. Her normally silky-smooth brown hair lay slightly tousled against the pillow and her lovely face was in complete repose. She looked at peace for the first time in weeks.

Vaughn wanted to reach out to touch her--just to be sure she was real--so that he would have tangible proof that his deepest fantasy had finally come true. The night they had spent together had been everything he had hoped it would be--from wild and rapturous to gentle and giving to sensual and intimate. Sydney was beautiful and alluring and passionate and the fact that they were now lovers added an exciting dimension to their already complex relationship.

The goddess suddenly stirred and stretched her arms above her head, the top of the sheet slipping down just slightly enough to reveal the slope of her breasts, much to his delight. Sydney opened her eyes to find him gazing at her. 

"Hi." She said softly, giving him a blissfully happy smile.

"Hi." Vaughn smiled back at her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmmm." Sydney purred like a kitten having her tummy rubbed, which affected him more than he thought it would. "You?"

"The best night I've had in months." He replied, unable to resist her any longer. His hand snaked under the sheets in search of her warm body and he kissed her good morning with only one intention on his mind. Sydney responded in kind, her fingers grasped the back of his head as she pulled him on top of her.

Her arousal matched his own with an intensity that made their coupling all the more pleasurable. She gave herself freely to him and he made sure he was equally as generous.

Some time later, the two of them were lying around, still in bed. Vaughn was propped up against the pillows while Sydney was on her stomach resting on her elbows, a pose which presented him with a very enjoyable view. "Michael, do you remember what you asked me last night?" She suddenly asked.

"I asked you to marry me and you said yes." He cut his eyes at the vaguely apprehensive expression on her face and his forehead creased. "Are you having second thoughts?" He asked, equally anxious now.

"No!" She said quickly. "Are you?"

"No." Vaughn replied without a moment's hesitation.

"Really?"

"Syd…" If there was one thing she had learned about him after a few weeks of spending every day together, it was that he hated when she waffled and didn't tell him straight out what she was feeling.

"Okay." She gave in. "I just want to be sure you didn't ask me because we just had sex for the first time." Sydney remarked in an unusually frank manner. 

"Sydney!" Vaughn pretended to be appalled.

"Well, it was an emotional moment, Michael." She pointed out unnecessarily.

"I think I can separate love and sex, Sydney." He said dryly.

"_Great_ sex, I might add." She gave him an impish smile.

"_Phenomenal_ sex." He agreed and then caressed her cheek with his hand. "I asked you to marry me because I'm in love with you, Sydney, and I fell for you a long time before we ever slept together."

"Good answer." She gave him a sunny smile, which faded rather quickly. "Michael, do you think we'll ever be able to do this for real?"

"Are you telling me that everything that happened last night and this morning hasn't been real?" Vaughn asked teasingly. "I know it felt real to me every time it happened and you had obvious physical proof of that." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Michael, you know what I mean." Sydney felt a blush rise to her cheeks. This slightly racy side of him still took some getting used to, but the fact that it even existed was something she adored. It made her reflect about all the things she had yet to learn about him and the thought of having that chance thrilled and excited her. She never wanted him to be able to stop surprising her. "Will we ever be able to do a simple thing like take a vacation together without worrying the wrong person might see us in a shop or having dinner or even just holding hands?"

"Oh, you mean like normal people do." He said exaggeratedly.

"Yeah, like normal people take for granted." She said soberly. "When I was a kid, I equated normal with boring and I swore to myself that I would never be like that. Now I would give anything to have a normal, boring life."

Vaughn gave her a sympathetic look. "Come here, Syd." He gathered Sydney into his arms. "We just have to be patient, sweetheart. Our first priority is to get away from Irina. Once we do that, we can go home and get back to our main objective, which is to take down SD-6."

"And that'll happen one day, right?" Sydney wanted him to reassure her. "SD-6 will be obliterated, Sloane will go to prison, the Alliance will be destroyed and I can have my life back?"

"Right, Sydney." Vaughn said softly. "We will have everything we want. The four-bedroom house, the two-car garage, a flower garden in the backyard and a nice big lawn I get to mow every Sunday in the front."

Sydney giggled at the thought. "You like to mow the lawn?"

"No, actually, I hate it because it was one of my chores as a kid and we had this old push mower that wasn't gasoline-powered." He made a face. "But having to mow the lawn would be a sign of a normal life and I would welcome it."

Sydney looked up at him and smiled. "You know, four bedrooms is an awful lot of space for just you and me." She pointed out with a suggestive look on her face.

"I thought we had to have a lot of bedrooms for all those kids you wanted." He teased her. "Didn't you mention something about having two pairs of each to that pretty little hotel clerk?"

"I think I was exaggerating." Sydney rolled her eyes. "I don't even know if I could handle one."

He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. "You'll be a terrific mom, Sydney."

She smiled at him. "And you'll be a great dad." The two of them wondered silently about their future and how long they would have to wait for it. They both knew it wouldn't come as quickly as they wanted it to.

"Well, all of that is something we have to look forward to, but in the meantime, we can get a lot of practice time in." Vaughn shot her a fairly lascivious look. His arms tightened around her and he felt something stirring as her naked body squirmed against him with pleasure.

"Practice does make perfect." Sydney murmured with a giggle. She saw him grin right before he lowered his head to claim her lips with his own.

*     *     *     *     *

Sydney and Vaughn had showered, dressed and were ready to leave by nine-thirty that morning. She wanted to get back to the hotel to check on what Sark was up to plus they still had things to do before their mission later on that afternoon.

Vaughn was doing a last onceover of the room to be sure they hadn't forgotten anything when he spotted Sydney's rings on the bedside table.

"Hey, don't forget these." He handed them to her as she came out of the bathroom.

"Thanks." She replied. "Is your finger turning green? I think mine is." She made a face as she slipped the rings on her finger.

Vaughn examined his finger. "No, it looks okay so far." He picked up her hand to inspect it. "I think you're imagining it."

"I see a green tinge happening." She insisted.

"Whatever, Syd." He kissed her hand and then held it a few seconds longer to gaze at the "diamonds" on her finger. "Incidentally, my marriage proposal does come with a real engagement ring to be followed later. I kind of caught myself off-guard by asking you before I was prepared, but I just couldn't wait." He gave her a sheepish look, which touched her heart.

"It's okay." Sydney smiled at him. "The important thing is that you asked and I said yes."

"I know, but I wouldn't want you to think these fake rocks you're wearing are all you're going to get from me." He looked adorably shy for some reason.

"Oh, Michael," She kissed him gently on the lips. "I wouldn't care if my ring was clear glass as long as you're the one giving it to me." Sydney declared emphatically and then a twinkle came into her eyes. "Of course, if you're asking for suggestions, I am rather partial to platinum and as many carats as my finger can hold without being weighted down." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Vaughn laughed at her. 

After an excellent breakfast prepared by Signora Bertolucci, Sydney and Vaughn took a taxi back to the Hotel Bellini. Sydney felt vaguely self-conscious as they climbed out of the taxi dressed in their evening clothes, but no one on the street seemed to pay them any mind. A thought came to her mind as they walked into the lobby of the hotel.

She grabbed hold of his arm to stop him in his tracks. "Mi--François, do you think Sark is staying in our hotel?" Sydney murmured to him in French.

He looked thoughtful. "I think it's a possibility. If his plan was to bug our room, it would have made it easier for him to plant them if he had access to the upper floors."

"No doubt he used some of his questionable charm in order to dupe one of the chambermaids into letting him into our room." Sydney said distastefully as she threw a glance at the lone desk clerk standing behind the check-in desk. "Do you mind if I go look into it?" She motioned to the desk clerk.

"Be my guest." Vaughn kissed her cheek and wandered into the gift shop.

Sydney walked up to the desk clerk, a fully-dimpled smile pasted on her face. The tall skinny man with dark hair and eyes was not immune to her charms and returned her smile with a warm one of his own.

"_Buon giorno, _how may I help you?" He asked pleasantly, openly admiring the radiant young woman standing before him.

"_Buon giorno_…Marco." Sydney's eyes lit upon his nametag and then leaned over the counter in a conspiratorial fashion. "I was wondering if I could find out from you if my brother has checked into the hotel." She gave a flutter of her eyelashes.

"Ah, I'm sorry, _sig_--" The clerk made a swift glance down to her left hand and noted the wedding ring with some regret. _Oh, well, there was no harm in looking, was there_? "--_signora_, but it is against hotel policy to give out information on our guests."

"But I'm his sister." Sydney said cajolingly.

"I am sorry, _signora_, but I have no proof of that and even if you were, it would still be against hotel policy." Marco said regretfully.

She settled her face into a pretty pout. "Please, won't you reconsider? He's my baby brother and I haven't seen him in ages. When I found out he was in Rome, I knew he would come here to his favorite hotel!" Sydney looked appealingly winsome.

The desk clerk appeared to be weakening. Beautiful women had always been his downfall. "Well, I suppose I could check the computer. What is his name?"

Sydney struggled to keep from giving him a blank look. _Uh-oh_, she thought frantically. She didn't have a clue as to what name Sark would use while undercover. Then she spotted the old-fashioned leather sign-in register on the counter next to the computer and realized she would have to use her talent for embellishment once again.

"Would you mind if I looked at that register?" She smiled sweetly.

Marco raised a questioning eyebrow. "_Signora_?"

"Look, I'm going to let you in on a little family secret." She began in a whisper. "My father is an extremely wealthy man, but he and my brother have never seen eye to eye on anything. My father likes to be in control of everyone and everything, including my brother. That's why he ran off, to get away from our father." Sydney pretended to get choked-up.

"Now I find out he's in Rome, but I know he's not going to use his real name wherever he is because my father would find out and drag him back home." Sydney gave the clerk a final lip quiver. "If you would just let me see the register, maybe I could figure out what name he is using."

The soft-hearted desk clerk felt sorry for the distressed young woman standing before him and he couldn't stand to see her looking as if she was about to cry. He gave a surreptitious look around and then handed her the register. "Please hurry." He exhorted her in a low voice.

"Oh, thank you!" Sydney wiped a non-existent tear from her eye and opened the leather-bound cover. 

Her eyes quickly scanned down the list of names. She knew Sark wouldn't be so foolhardy as to use his real name, so she was looking for a French surname to play along with the fact that she and Vaughn were posing as French tourists.

Unfortunately, none of the people who had checked in after they did yesterday had a name sounding even remotely French (well, there was someone by the name of Moreau staying at the hotel, but somehow she didn't think Sark would be going by the first name of _Vivienne_), so she flipped the page back and perused the names of the guests who had checked in the day before.__

_A-ha_! She thought triumphantly. _Sebastién Daigneault – Check-in time 3:00 pm_. Sydney rolled her eyes at Sark's amateurish attempt to remain incognito. Hadn't Irina taught him anything about being a spy? You didn't choose an alias based on your real initials!

"Excuse me, it appears my brother checked in two days ago." Sydney pointed at the name in the register. "Could you give me his room number?"

"I'm sorry, _signora_, but it is against hotel policy to give out information on our guests." Marco went through his old song-and-dance routine once again.

"But you just let me look at the register!"

The clerk looked nervously at the hotel manager's office. His boss had just come in and was hanging up his coat. He could not break the rules in front of the boss, not even for the beautiful woman standing before him.

"I'm sorry, _signora_, but if you would like to use the hotel phone, the operator will connect you to your brother's room." He gestured towards the alcove around the corner.

_No, that wouldn't work_, Sydney decided. If she wanted to stick it to Sark, he had to be able to see her doing it. "Never mind, I think I will let my brother sleep in a little while longer. _Molte_ g_razie_." Sydney gave him a smile that showed off her dimples and went off to retrieve Vaughn.

Vaughn was by the newsstand, reading a copy of _USA Today_. Sydney's eyes widened. A Frenchman wouldn't be reading an American newspaper. Well, he could, she supposed, but it might raise a few eyebrows after they'd gone to so much trouble pretending to be French.

"_François_!" She said curtly.

Vaughn looked up, a guilty look on his face. He knew exactly why she had used such a sharp tone with him.

"_Je suis désolé, _Amélie." (I'm sorry.) He said sheepishly, rolling up the newspaper and putting it under his arm. Vaughn then took her into his embrace and leaned in close. To the casual observer, the man was just kissing his wife on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Syd. I guess I was just feeling a little homesick." He whispered softly in her ear. He placed a kiss near the base of her ear, partly for show, but mostly because he wanted to.

Sydney's expression had softened by the time they faced each other again. "I understand." She murmured softly, brushing her fingers lovingly against his cheek. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Come on." She led him towards the exit.

"Wait, I thought we were going to confront Sark?" Vaughn said in a low voice as soon as they were outside the confines of the hotel.

"The clerk wouldn't tell me his room number, but I did find out that the little sneak checked in a whole day before we arrived!" Sydney fumed.

"How did you find that out?"

"I looked at the register." She replied matter-of-factly.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "They let you look at the hotel register, but they wouldn't give you Sark's room number? Isn't that like closing the barn door after the animals have escaped?"

"I think he got squeamish when the manager arrived." Sydney shrugged.

"Oh, it was a he." Vaughn's eyes gleamed. "No wonder you managed to charm your way into getting to see the register."

"Michael!" Sydney tried to look embarrassed, but failed miserably. "Okay, so I might have used a little of my feminine wiles, not that it did me much good." She looked pouty.

"That's because you used them on the wrong man." Vaughn said superciliously. "Your feminine wiles should only be used on me."

A slow smile spread across Sydney's face. "And then I get everything I want, is that it?" She melted against him and felt supremely safe and protected when his arms went around her.

"Everything I can give you." Vaughn promised, right before he tightened his arms around her and he bent his head to kiss her.

"Oh, Michael," Sydney sighed a few moments later as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "I can't believe we're doing something as normal as kissing in public and people aren't descending upon us to drag us apart."

"Someday, Syd, someday." He murmured. "Do you want to forget about Sark and go upstairs to change? We still have to go over our specs and double-check our equipment before tonight."

Sydney suddenly spotted the phone across the street. "Wait a minute." She started to cross the street. "We can still get Little Brother yet."

"Michael, do you have the number of the hotel?" She dug up some change from her handbag and inserted the coins into the phone.

Vaughn checked his wallet. "Here." He handed her the hotel receipt he had signed when they checked in.

Sydney dialed the number and connected to the operator. "_Buon giorno_, you have reached the Hotel Bellini. How may I direct your call?" A pleasant-sounding woman's voice came over the line.

"I'd like to speak to one of your guests." She said in a crisp voice. "Sebastién Daigneault's room, please."

"_Grazie_, I will connect you."

There was a momentary pause and then Sark's voice came over the line. "Yes?" He sounded harried as if he hadn't slept all night.

"Oooh, someone sounds as if he got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!" Sydney chirped sweetly.

"Where the devil are you?" Sark bellowed into the phone. Sydney noted with amusement how his accent became more pronounced when he was stressed. "You're at the American Embassy, aren't you? You've deserted Mother just as I always knew you would." His voice was filled with smug satisfaction.

"Think again, Sherlock." Sydney said, annoyed in spite of herself.

"Well, I know for a fact that you're not in your room!"

"And just how would you know that?" She countered. "You bastard, you did bug our room, didn't you?"

Sark's moment of silence said it all. "Someone had to keep an eye on you, Sydney." He replied glibly, seemingly unconcerned that she had found him out.

"So that's why you're here?" She gave a brittle laugh. "You did a real bang-up job of keeping an eye on us, didn't you, Little Brother? Mummy will be _so_ disappointed in you." Sydney cooed sarcastically.

Sark hated when Sydney mocked him like that because he never wanted to do anything to displease Irina and he didn't like being taunted about it when he did so.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but Mother doesn't trust you as much as you think she does." His voice was snide.

"Or maybe you whispered in her ear that I couldn't be trusted." Sydney shot back at him.

"And evidently that was the case, considering you ditched the hotel." Sark retorted.

"Only because you were so obviously inept about spying on us, _Sebastién_." Sydney goaded him. "Don't you know _anything_ about choosing an alias?"

Sark flushed, grateful that Sydney could not see him. He had thought using his initials would make it easier to remember, but he had clearly made a grand _faux pas _when it came to playing spy games.

"Where are you?" Sark abruptly changed the subject.

Sydney smiled to herself. Baiting Sark was such fun because she knew she could always get a rise out of him. Although she wouldn't miss _him_, she would kind of miss their antagonistic sibling repartee.

"Take a look outside your window." She suggested sweetly.

Sark ran over to the window and pushed the curtains aside with an impatient gesture. Sydney and Vaughn were down below on the opposite side of the street, waving at him from a payphone. They were still dressed in their evening clothes and for some strange reason, looked deliriously happy.

"Oh, so you and the boytoy stayed out all night, did you?" Sark smirked. "Did he finally get some last night?"

The grin left her face immediately, much to his delight. "Don't be crude." She said witheringly. "Or are you just jealous because you know you don't have a chance in hell of getting laid anytime soon when you're tied so tightly to Mummy's apron strings?" Vaughn, who was at her side listening in, raised an eyebrow at that one.

"Now who's being crude?" Sark remarked dryly.

"Look, I really don't want to discuss this with you of all people." Sydney said dismissively. "Just tell me if you're here to observe or here to help."

"Well, I was actually not supposed to reveal myself until later on today when you were ready to leave for the mission." Sark admitted. "But since you've found me out ahead of time, the least I can do is help to make sure that things run smoothly." He reasoned. "So let's call a truce, Sydney, at least for today?"

She didn't trust him, but she agreed. If he was in her line of sight, she could at least keep tabs on him. "Fine."

"Good, now why don't the two of you change into more appropriate daytime attire and I will do the same." Sark suggested. "Then we will meet in my room for breakfast and a bit of strategizing."

"All right." Sydney replied. "What room are you in?"

"Right next door to yours, Sis." He cackled softly.

She angrily hung up the phone. "He's in the room right next door to us, Michael." Sydney said through clenched teeth. "That's how he got in to bug our room."

"Through the connecting door." Vaughn nodded.

She gave a frustrated sigh. "Well, come on, let's go upstairs to change our clothes. He wants to meet in his room to go over the plans."

Vaughn took her hand and led her across the street.

*     *     *     *     *

Twenty minutes later, Sark greeted them at the door to his room with a knowing smirk on his face. Sydney ignored him and stepped into the room, Vaughn closely on her heels. Room service had obviously come and gone, as a breakfast cart holding a carafe of hot coffee and a basket of croissants and pastries was already set up in the corner of the room.

Sark played the role of courteous host as he invited them to join him in his morning meal. Since they had already eaten at the B&B, both Sydney and Vaughn declined. Sark replied with a shrug and then asked Vaughn if he could see the schematic of the sewer. Business matters dominated the conversation for the next half hour. 

"Sydney, why are you being so stubborn?" Sark frowned at her.

"You're not coming with us on the mission, Sark." Sydney shook her head.

"But I'm here, so I might as well help." He pointed out.

"Well, that's the operative word here, isn't it?" She arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how much of a 'help' you'd be."

"Why would I do anything to sabotage the mission, Sydney?" Sark feigned a wounded look. "If you're successful in obtaining the portrait, it's good news for all of us. I'm certainly not going to cut off my nose to spite my face."

Sydney reluctantly agreed that he had a point. He was so devoted to Irina that there was no way he would deliberately undermine the operation. For Sark, it was all about pleasing Irina; he simply hated to see her disappointed.

She looked at Vaughn. "Should we let him drive the van?"

"I don't see how it could hurt." He replied. "We might need to make a quick getaway, so we don't want to be fumbling for keys in the dark."

Sydney nodded and then looked at Sark. "Okay, you can drive the van, but I swear if you do anything to screw with us, I _will_ beat you up." She said without a trace of a smile.

Sark understood that she wasn't kidding with him. "I won't let you down, Sis." He said solemnly.

"Not if you know what's good for you." Sydney said dryly, tucking away a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Where did you get that?" Sark suddenly pointed at her, the look on his face positively thunderous.

"What?" Sydney looked down at herself in confusion. "Did I spill coffee on myself or something?"

"That ring!" He barked out.

Sydney stared at him. "Get a grip, will you?" She said chastisingly. "They're fakes. Irina gave them to us before we left Taipei."

"Sydney and I are supposed to be married, you know." Vaughn put in.

"And Irina's all for putting a realistic touch on everything." Sydney added ironically.

Sark gave her a flabbergasted look. "I thought women were supposed to know about things like diamonds." He said derisively.

"Sark, they're not diamonds." She said exasperatedly. "I just told you it was a prop!"

Sark clenched his teeth. "Sydney, that 'prop,' as you call it, is a cherished family heirloom!" He hissed at her.

Her mouth dropped open. "Are you crazy?" She burst out.

"That ring was our grandmother's engagement ring, Sydney." He informed her haughtily. "As soon as she came back home from tending to you all those years, that ring never left her finger until the day she died."

Sydney looked down at her left hand in utter shock. She caught Vaughn's equally stunned gaze and held it for a few moments.

"Why would Irina give me her mother's engagement ring?" Sydney asked slowly.

Sark narrowed his eyes. "Think about it, Sydney!" He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Michael?" Her voice was hollow, uncomprehending. "Why did she do it?"

"I don't know, Sydney." He was just as bewildered as she was.

"Do you think she knew about our plans somehow?" She asked, just to say something, not expecting him to know the answer. "Did she want me to have something to remember her by just in case we were successful in getting away from her?"

Vaughn shook his head. "No, I can't believe she would have even let us off the estate if she knew what we were planning to do." 

"Then I don't get it." Her legs felt shaky and she sank onto the bed.

"Syd, she couldn't have known that you'd find out about the ring." Vaughn remarked. "Sark told us that he wasn't supposed to make contact with us until we were due to leave for the mission and at that point, he would have been more concerned that things were running on schedule. He certainly wouldn't have been paying attention to any jewelry you might be wearing."

"Then she did it to try to manipulate me." Sydney said darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how she's constantly trying to strengthen her maternal bond with me and what better way to do that than to use her own mother?" She queried. "She knows I loved the woman who I thought of as Mrs. Tennyson, that I saw her as the grandmother I wished I had. So she uses it against me by pawning off her mother's engagement ring on me."

"Only she doesn't tell me straight out that it's some precious family heirloom because she knows I would be suspicious that she was trying to play with my emotions." The more Sydney began to plot out her mother's intentions, the more upset she became. "Instead she has you give it to me and since it's coming right after she gave us the phony wedding rings, naturally I assume that it's a fake as well and I don't think anything about it."

"But you think she had some ulterior motive?"

"I think she was planning to spring it on me after the mission was over." Her eyes narrowed. "She knew I would eventually return the rings to her and that's when she would say in her oh-so-innocent way, 'No, no, Sydney, your grandmother would want you to have it.'" Sydney pretended to simper using her mother's accent.

"Of course, I would be as shocked then as I am now and she would take advantage of that by launching into some flowery speech about the great love her parents shared." Sydney looked angry. "Then when I was sufficiently moved to tears, she'd segue into some lame-assed story about how _I_ was conceived in a similar fashion." Her voice oozed with sarcasm. "She's already set the scene by telling me that she actually cared for my father. That she wasn't just working him like some puppet on a string."

Vaughn gave her a surprised look. "You never told me Irina professed to have some real feelings for your father."

Sydney shot him a guilty look. "No, I guess I didn't." She admitted.

"Why not?" He asked, but not in an accusatory way. He just sounded curious.

Sydney hesitated slightly before speaking. "Michael, you of all people know how much I complained about all the time she made me spend with her. In the beginning, it was absolute torture for me to sit there and nod my head and say all the comforting little things she wanted to hear from me." She cut her eyes at him nervously. "But towards the end, before we left, I don't know if I was pretending all that much." Sydney finally told him about her mother's late-night visit from a few nights before.

"But now I feel like an absolute idiot!" Sydney burst out frustratedly. "She was trying to make me love her again and I was actually falling for it!"

Vaughn moved to take her into his arms. "Sydney, it's okay." He stroked her hair with a loving hand.

"No, it's not, because I don't _want_ to love her again!" She wrenched herself out of his arms because she didn't feel worthy of being comforted by him. "Not when I know about all the terrible things she's done!"

"Syd…"

"Michael, she killed your father!" Hot tears sprang to her eyes. "How can I love the person who did that to you?"

"Sydney," Vaughn reached out to her again. "Don't feel as if you have to hate your mother for my benefit."

"I will admit I'm not very happy that she's somehow gotten you to believe in her again." He said quietly. "To me, Irina is the person who took my father away from me and my mother and there's no way I will ever accept her, Syd."

"I know that." Her lower lip trembled. "And I don't expect you to, not even for me." 

"However, that being said, I'm not going to go all control freak on you and dictate how you should feel or who you should love. It's not my place and it's certainly not my right." Vaughn tipped her chin up to make sure she was looking at him. "Whether I like it or not, Sydney, she's your mother and she's always going to be your mother. I can't change that and neither can you."

"No matter how much we both want to." She said ruefully.

"Right." He agreed. 

"I just feel so guilty, Michael." Sydney looked at him with troubled eyes. "I mean, what does that say about me that she could break down my defenses like that and make me start to care about her again?"

"It says you are a forgiving person and that's nothing to be ashamed of. We should all be so magnanimous."

"So you don't hate me for feeling this way?" She looked at him anxiously. "Michael, I don't want you to think I'm being disrespectful to your father--"  
  
"Syd, be quiet." Vaughn gave her a tender look as he put a finger to her lips to silence her. "How can you even think I would ever hate you? That is simply beyond the realm of possibility." He gently kissed away a tear that had fallen onto her cheek. "You can care about your mother--you can even love her if that's how you feel--and I'll do my best to accept it because I love you. There doesn't have to be anymore to it."

Sydney gave him a look of unabashed adoration. She loved this man with her heart and her soul and everything she had to give. 

"Have I told you lately that you truly are the most wonderful man in the world?" She wound her arms around his neck.

"Well, no, not in the last half hour, but I'd be willing to overlook it on one condition." Vaughn said with a mischievous smile.

"And what's that?" Her lips curved upward.

"You can kiss me until I beg you to stop." He laid a gentle hand on her cheek. "And since that's never going to happen as long as I have a breath in my body, you'd better be prepared to pucker up."

Sydney let out a lovely, joyous laugh and happily complied.

_To be continued_… 

**Author's Note**: Okay, I know, Vaughn is rapidly approaching unattainable perfection, but I can't help it.  Oh, well, this is partly a fantasy, right? Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for the great feedback everyone has been giving me.  The fluff is going away for awhile as we get back to the story, but there's a very good chance that it will make another appearance as we head towards the finale.

See ya later!


	19. The Break In

**Author's Note**: Since the mission is a copycat of the one in "The Prophecy," I had to re-watch that episode in order to write this chapter.  It's actually not clear to me how they get into the sewer through that building where the girl is singing, but I tried to follow it as closely as possible.  Some details were changed for dramatic purposes.

Once again, thanks to all the people who keep reading and reviewing.  I really do appreciate the fact that you're still interested in the story.  But take heart, the finish line is in sight, folks!

See ya later!

*     *     *     *     *

The mission was scheduled to commence late that afternoon. A van with all of the necessary equipment was dropped off across the street from the hotel as planned, so all they had to do was get in and change into their workmen's jumpsuits while Sark drove them to the same musical conservatory they had visited a few months earlier.

Sark appeared to have gotten over his earlier outburst and was actually in an upbeat mood for him. Sydney still wasn't quite so sure that they could trust him, but she knew he took her threat of bodily harm seriously, so her uneasiness over him tagging along with them was slightly abated.

Sydney and Vaughn made quick work of their wardrobe change in the back of the van. As she gathered her hair back into a sleek ponytail, Sydney watched Vaughn pulling on his boots. Damn, but he could even make that ugly blue jumpsuit look good and she told him so, delighting when he blushed.

"I hate jumpsuits." Vaughn remarked dryly. "They're so seventies."

"Oh, don't tell me you wore jumpsuits when you were a kid!" Sydney laughed at him. "Does your mother have any photos?"

"If she does, I'm going to tell her to burn them before you can get your hands on them." He quipped and she laughed again.

"We're here!" Sark called from the front of the van as the vehicle pulled to a stop. Vaughn scooted across the floor of the van to open the back doors. He climbed out first and then gave her a hand to help her out.

While Vaughn unloaded the equipment, Sark took Sydney aside to give her a comm unit and a lipstick camera to wear on her headlamp.

"Why are these necessary?" Sydney asked him impatiently.  

"You may need to communicate with me, Sydney." Sark replied. "And the camera is to ensure that you don't do anything that might bring undue attention to yourselves."

"Oh, you mean like accidentally sounding the alarm on purpose?" She said sarcastically.

"I would think that would be rather beneficial for you, wouldn't it?" Her brother said archly. "If the security officers caught you in the act?"

Sydney gave him a sharp look, alarmed by his insinuation. Did Sark know more about their plans than he should have?

Before she could respond, Vaughn distracted her by calling out in Italian, "Are you ready?"

She had to settle for giving Sark a menacing glare. "Stay put. If all goes well, we should be back within the hour." She said curtly.

Sark's eyes were hooded as he met her gaze unflinchingly. "I'll be waiting for you, Sydney."

Sydney felt vaguely unsettled by the vibe he was giving off, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. She hurried around to the back of the van.

"We all set?" Vaughn asked her.

Sydney nodded, her stomach suddenly feeling as if it were tied up in knots. "Michael?" She said anxiously.

"Yeah, Syd?" He gave her a questioning look.

She wanted to voice her fears, but there was simply nothing she could put her finger on. It was just a general feeling of unease that he would probably chalk up to nerves. Sydney could almost buy that explanation if it weren't for the fact that she usually didn't feel this apprehensive before a mission. "I just want to tell you that I love you." She whispered.

Vaughn's face softened. "I love you, too, sweetie." He squeezed her hand and then bent down to pick up their equipment.

They headed into the conservatory, which was deserted at this late in the day. They encountered no one as they headed down the circular stairway towards the basement, so they were able to sneak in undetected. A few moments were spent blowtorching an opening that would take them down into the sewer. 

As Sydney was preparing to climb down the ladder, Vaughn caught hold of her arm. "Sydney, wait."

She gave him an expectant look. "What is it, Michael?"

He hesitated a moment. "Um, Syd, if anything happens down there--"

"But it won't." Sydney interrupted.

"I know, but if it does, I want you to promise me something." Vaughn gave her a serious look. "I want you to promise that you'll get out at the first sign of trouble."

"Of course." She assured him. "Right after I make sure that you're one step behind me."

"No, Sydney, you know that's not what I meant." His forehead creased into a frown. "Look, I made a promise to your mother that I would always put your safety ahead of my own and while I know it was an oath made under a certain amount of duress, it's actually one promise I intend to keep."

"Michael…" She didn't know what to say.

"Sydney." His voice was firm. "Promise me." His green eyes were boring intently into hers. When he looked at her like that, she was powerless to protest.

"All right." She nodded. "I promise."

Vaughn gave her a satisfied smile and then kissed her, his lips warm and sweet against hers. "Now get going."

As they descended into the darkness of the sewer, Sydney could tell that something was different this time. She could hear the sound of rushing water as they made their way carefully down the iron rungs that were attached to the smooth surface of the wall.

"Oh, God!" She yelped as she jumped down to the ground, knee-deep in some disgusting muck. The smell was horrible and she hurriedly pulled on her face mask to cover her nose and mouth.

"Well, this is unexpected, isn't it?" Vaughn's voice was muffled through his mask. "Although I guess it shouldn't be considering it is a sewer."

"Michael, the stench in here is making me ill." Sydney complained. "I hope this isn't going to cause problems when we blast through the wall again."

Sydney and Vaughn worked quickly to set up the explosive device. Thankfully, their firepower this time was of the sort that could be attached to the wall and it was rigged to detonate by a remote control so that they could position themselves far enough away before setting off the blast. Sydney did a short countdown and then pushed the button, closing her eyes as she did so. Vaughn instinctively shielded her with his body as the bomb went off. 

The ground rumbled and the walls shook, but when they turned back around, there was a gaping hole where the wall had been. Sewage started to seep in through the cavity at a quick pace. Sydney tried not to breathe too deeply as she scrambled after Vaughn into the air duct which led directly into the underground vault.

Once they were inside the vault, Sydney went through the nerve-wracking process of disabling the alarm system again, breaking her somewhat dubious record from the last time they were there. Now it was just a matter of finding the painting.

They split up in the vault, figuring that they could cover more ground that way. Sydney's eyes were darting this way and that as she scampered about the dimly lit storage area, scanning each crate and box and carton for the desired inventory number.

She was in the back recesses of the vault when she spotted the crate stamped with the number 4747. Sydney brought out her crowbar in order to pry open the wooden slats, struggling a bit as she tried to loosen the nails from the wood. After a few minutes of grunting and straining, she had removed enough of the inch-thick planks so that she could extract the portrait from its crate.

Sydney took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow, paying no mind as she knocked her headlamp off her head, and then hurriedly removed the protective blanket to examine the portrait. It was the same one her mother had shown them a few nights earlier. Letting out a sigh of relief, she used her knife to deftly separate the canvas from its frame and then stuffed the painting into a waterproof container.

Just as Sydney was about to call out to Vaughn, she heard a shout and a smattering of belligerent-sounding Italian. Her heart started to pound in her chest.

"Damn it." She muttered under her breath.

"What is it?" Sark suddenly barked in her ear. Sydney was startled by his voice, having forgotten she was even wearing the damn comm device.

"Michael and I were separated in the vault and I think he just got nabbed by security." She replied, keeping her voice extremely low.

"Do you have the painting?"

"Yes."

"Then get out of there now." Sark ordered her.

"Without Michael?" Sydney panicked.

"Sydney, if your boyfriend was careless enough to get caught, then he is no longer of any consequence to us." His tone was ruthless. "You, on the other hand, are in possession of what you were sent to retrieve and since you still have the option to escape, I suggest you do so immediately!"

"I can't go without him!" She hissed.

"Sydney, do you want me to have to tell Mother that your loyalty to her only extends so far? That you put your own questionable desires for your lover above the bigger needs of the organization?" Sark threatened evilly. "When will you get it through your thick head that your so-called greatest love story ever told is not the issue here? We're here on a mission! And your mission entails getting exactly what Irina wants!"

Sydney clamped her hand over the microphone she was wearing so that Sark wouldn't be able to hear her. "Do you think I give a damn what Irina wants?" She cried out softly in frustration. "All I care about is being with Michael!"

"Sydney, the security forces will soon be swarming down there." Sark's voice was cold. "Get out of there now or you'll suffer the consequences with Irina!"

Sydney was being torn in two by her moment of indecision. If she left now, there was a good chance she would never see Vaughn again. He'd have no choice but to call in his CIA connections in order to get out of this one and the Agency would eagerly sweep him back into the fold. She knew he would move heaven and earth to try to find her again, but Irina would think he had switched back over to the good guys and she would use all of her power and influence to never let him be reunited with Sydney.

But if she didn't leave--if she went after Vaughn--Irina would come gunning for them with both barrels on the grounds that they had deserted her and shunned her organization. There would be a price on both of their heads and they would never have a moment's peace for the rest of their lives, however long that might be. 

What choice did she have? Logically, there was only one. Sydney knew she would suffer tremendously without Vaughn by her side and no doubt cry herself to sleep every night as she wished he was holding her in his arms, but at least he would be out of harm's way. Irina was a master at keeping underground; Vaughn might search for them for years and years without success, which just might be enough to keep him alive. 

But if she followed her heart, they were as good as dead and she couldn't bear the thought of his blood being on her hands. She loved him too much to end his life simply because of her selfish need to be with him. If she let him go, he'd be safe and knowing that would be enough for her.

Besides which, Sydney couldn't forget about the promise she had made to him. If this truly was the last thing she would ever do for him, the least she could do was to honor her word. She owed him that much after everything he had done for her and for the great love he had given her.

With tears spilling from her eyes, Sydney made a quick retreat back through the air duct and haphazardly replaced the screen behind her. She could barely see where she was going as she crawled through the metal tube and had to stop several times to wipe a grimy sleeve across her face.

Sydney finally reached the end of the vent and slithered out. When she hit the ground, the backsplash resulted in her being splattered with bits of slime and goo as the watery contents of the sewer swirled around her kneecaps. She let out a stream of angry curse words as something foul-smelling found a place on her cheek. Sydney hastily wiped whatever it was from her face and as she waded back into the sewer, a horrendous realization hit her and she let out another agonized groan. She had left her headlamp--her only light source--back in the vault.

"Damn you, Sark, and damn Irina, too!" Sydney yelled out into the dank, cavernous, tomblike structure. She heard a rather amused snort from Sark and ripped the comm unit out of her ear, heaving it as far away from her as she could. The plopping sound it made as it hit the water some distance away from her was the only satisfying moment she had had all evening. Maybe it was a foolish move on her part to completely cut herself off from outside contact, but at that moment, Sydney preferred dying in that hellhole rather than listening to her brother cackle in her ear for one more second.

_Okay, now what_? She asked herself, willing herself to stay calm. It was pitch black and she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Her mind was scrambled at the prospect of being separated from Vaughn and she was having a hard time thinking clearly. Sydney tried to remember the path they had taken to get to this point. She knew she had to stay as close to the wall as possible; there was a narrow ledge upon which she could walk, but it would be tricky since her boots were slippery and there was nothing on the walls that she could grasp. One misstep and she just might be swallowed up into the revolting maelstrom of ick churning around her.

While Sydney was contemplating that thoroughly nauseating circumstance, something suddenly fell on top of her head and she yelped in surprise. Her hand went immediately to knock whatever it was off of her head and she nearly screamed again as her fingers made contact with a small, compact animal that had a long, skinny tail. Thank God she was wearing gloves as she flailed her arms and the rodent fell to the ground, skittering across her boots as he ran away. 

Sydney gave an obvious shudder and took a moment to collect herself. She didn't think of herself as a particularly girly girl when it came to spiders or snakes and the like, but there was just something about rats that gave her the willies. Maybe it was because of something she'd read before, about how they could collapse their spines and crawl under closed doors. She'd actually had a nightmare once about waking up in bed to find a rat sitting on her chest, just staring at her with his beady little eyes. It had freaked her out so much that when she and Francie had had that rat problem a few months ago, she had been only too glad to let Will take care of it, so that she didn't have to think about it at all.

Sydney started to plow through the muck. She was so distraught about the rats and Sark and Vaughn that it was difficult to keep her mind focused on the task at hand, which was to find her way back to the iron rungs that led up into the basement of the conservatory. If only she wasn't hurting so much. After everything she and Vaughn had gone through to finally be together, it was so much more painful to realize that it was all totally lost to her now. She would have nothing but the lovely memories of a few brief weeks to sustain her for the rest of her miserable life.

Sydney was so deep in despair that she didn't even realize it when the ledge she was walking on abruptly ended. Unable to get a firm grip on any part of the slimy, slippery walls, she lost her footing and fell backwards, landing awkwardly as she hit her tailbone on the ledge before sinking up to her waist into the rank sewage water. She cried out, as much in frustration as in pain. No doubt she had probably acquired a new set of bruises all over her backside, but what did that matter now? The black-and-blue marks would fade in a few weeks, but the ache she had in her heart would be with her forever.

She struggled to her feet and started sloshing her way through the sewage waste once again. But somehow Sydney had lost her bearings when she fell and she overshot the point at which they'd entered the sewer. It was like playing Blind Man's Bluff as she tried to run her hands over every inch of the wall in order to find that first iron bar. Minutes passed--she didn't know long it had been since she'd left the vault--and she began to feel hopelessly lost. 

By the time her gloved hand finally wrapped around a curved iron rung, Sydney was so thankful she almost wept. She was wet and tired and grungy and didn't exactly smell lemon-fresh. A bath sounded heavenly at that moment and she desperately wanted to wash her hair to remove any lingering traces of _Eau de Rat_.

As Sydney leaned against the damp slime of the wall to catch her breath, the irony of the situation suddenly hit her. She thought back to that awful night in Taipei when she thought Vaughn had died in the warehouse and realized she had come full circle. Here she was again, weary and cold and dirty, in dire need of a hosing down and seemingly separated from Vaughn forever.

But she couldn't think of that now. If she let herself break down, she feared she would collapse into a heap and she would never be able to get up again.

Pushing all other thoughts out of her head, Sydney started climbing.

_To be continued_…


	20. A Brother's Revenge

Weary to the bone, with aching arms so rubbery she didn't know if they could carry her up one more rung, Sydney finally reached the manhole cover, the last obstacle to blessed freedom. With all the strength she could muster, Sydney gave a mighty push and popped the disk out of its resting place.

Night had fallen and the moon was high in the sky as Sydney hoisted herself up through the circular opening. Thankfully, she wasn't in the middle of the street in front of oncoming traffic, but she was surprised to find herself sitting along the edge of St. Peter's Square. She was glad there were not too many people about and even if it was questionable to see a woman suddenly pop out of the ground, at least she looked the part of a sewer worker.

Sydney rested for a few moments and took several deep breaths of the crisp clean air, wanting to rid herself of the stench and fumes that lay in the sewer below her. If she never had to go through that kind of experience ever again, she would die a very happy woman.

She looked up to gaze at St. Peter's Basilica as it loomed above her. It truly was a magnificent sight to behold and in spite of her dire circumstances, she could actually appreciate it for what it was worth. For all the times Sydney had come to Rome, she had only been inside once, but she remembered being awed by the marvelous sculptures and artwork and architecture. In one of her fantasy daydreams, she had actually given thought to the fact that she'd like to come back with Vaughn one day--not as a thief, of course--but simply as a tourist who wanted to enjoy it for the beauty that it held.

_Michael_. Sydney bowed her head and the blasted tears started up again. She wondered what they had done to him. Would they lock him in prison and throw away the key? She hoped he had been able to contact Devlin by now and she prayed that he would get out of this mess relatively unscathed.

Just then, Sydney heard an ominous click behind her and her whole body tensed. She recognized the sound for what it was. Every nerve ending stood at attention as she turned her head slowly to see Sark standing over her. Her first reaction was confusion as to what he was doing there. Then she saw what he was about to do and her second reaction was fear.

Sark pointed at her with the gun in his outstretched hand and fired.

*     *     *     *     *

Vaughn was taken through a narrow, stuffy hallway towards the Office of the Security Director. _God, didn't these people believe in air conditioning_? He was sweating bullets as the two armed security guards ushered him into the office, but it wasn't because he was distressed at his predicament; no, he was worried about what was happening to Sydney.

He hoped she had kept her word and hightailed it out of the vault the moment she had heard the raised voices. If she managed to make it safely back to the van, then he didn't care what happened to him. They were separated for the moment, but he would find his way back to her somehow.  

Two men were seated in front of the desk, their backs to him as he entered the room. Vaughn paid them no mind as he was more concerned with the Director of Security, who was big and beefy and at the moment, shooting him a rather intimidating glare. The swarthy, dark-haired man rattled something off in Italian.

"Is this the man?" Vaughn was able to translate.

The two men turned around in their chairs. "Eric! Jack!" Vaughn cried out. Weiss had an elated look on his face, but Jack was implacable as always.

In truth, Jack Bristow was extremely relieved to see the younger agent. It had not been an easy road to get to this point. He and Weiss had experienced numerous delays in their sojourn to Italy, from bad weather to flight delays to an overly suspicious Director of Security. But they had persevered and it looked as if they had arrived just in time.

"Where's Sydney?" Jack asked, his manner brusque and businesslike.

"I hope she escaped." Vaughn replied, stunned to see the two familiar faces from home. "Were you on your way to Rome when Sydney talked to you last night, Jack? How did you know we would be here?"

"We received a tip." Weiss told him.

"A tip?" Vaughn frowned. 

"It was called in anonymously a few days ago." Weiss informed him. "Whoever it was used a voice-distortion box, so we don't have an ID."

"Then how did you know it wasn't a trap?"

"We tracked you based on the isotope solution I gave to Sydney in Taipei." Jack replied. 

"But that was a week ago!" Vaughn blurted out. "Why didn't you find us when we were in Taipei? Weren't you trying to look for us before?"

Jack gave him an exasperated look. Did the man honestly think he would just be sitting around twiddling his thumbs instead of out searching for his only child? "The satellite was malfunctioning and we couldn't get a clear read on you until just this morning." His frosty tone put Vaughn properly in his place. "I assure you, Agent Vaughn, that it wasn't a simple matter of tightening a loose screw." Vaughn gave him a chastened look.

"Now I am assuming our mysterious caller was someone within Khasinau's organization." Jack said crisply. "Vaughn, since you were recently admitted into The Man's inner circle, do you have any knowledge that might substantiate this theory? Did you observe any dissension in the ranks? Is there someone who would have good reason to get rid of you and Sydney?" Jack turned a hawk-like gaze on him.

One name jumped to the top of the list, but Vaughn hesitated to let it be known. Once it was out there, he would have to explain himself and he didn't exactly relish the thought of having to tell Jack that his presumed-dead wife had been their actual captor these past few weeks. He had always expected that Sydney would be the one to tell her father about Irina. That way, Jack wouldn't be tempted to shoot the messenger.

Unfortunately, he didn't see any other way around it except to tell the truth. "I believe it was Sark." He finally admitted.

"Sark?" Jack frowned. "For what reason would you suspect him?"

"He considered Sydney a threat to his position within the organization."

"I don't understand why that would be the case." Jack gave him a penetrating glance. "I was under the impression that Khasinau trusts him implicitly and Sark has always given the appearance that he is unswervingly loyal to The Man."

"Yes, Sark would do anything for his boss." Vaughn agreed.

"So did something happen recently to make Khasinau suddenly shift his confidence from Sark to Sydney?" The older agent asked incisively.

"It wasn't exactly recently, no." Vaughn said hesitantly. "It was more or less decided almost thirty years ago."

Jack was quickly losing his patience. "Vaughn, you're not making sense." 

A muscle in Vaughn's jaw twitched. "Jack, I didn't want to be the one to have to tell you this, but it looks as if I have no choice." He swallowed the huge lump in his throat. "Khasinau is not The Man. That title belongs to Sydney's mother, Irina Derevko AKA Laura Bristow." Vaughn shot Jack an uneasy glance as he steeled himself against the inevitable onslaught.

Surprisingly, Jack didn't lash out at him. Instead, he was more or less stunned into silence.

_Hmmm, Jack Bristow finally speechless for once_, Vaughn thought to himself. _I wonder how he'll react when he finds out about me and Sydney_.

Weiss wisely took up the slack in conversation. "The Man is really a woman?" He whistled. "Whew, we never saw that one coming!" Weiss' attempt at diffusing the tension in the room with a bit of levity was well-intentioned, but ultimately ineffectual as Jack Bristow didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken.

"It was a shock to all of us." Vaughn replied and then turned to Jack. "Jack, I'm sorry I had to blurt it out like that, but I didn't see any other way." He looked apologetic.

"Laura is alive?" Jack uttered, a look of bewilderment on his face. "Why didn't Sydney tell me?"

"Irina forbade it." Vaughn explained. "She still wanted everyone to think Khasinau was The Man, so that no one's focus would be on her."

Jack nodded resignedly. "So what were her plans concerning Sydney?"

"She wanted Sydney to join forces with her to take down SD-6 and thwart the CIA in the process."

"And Sydney agreed to that?" For a split second, Jack worried that Laura had somehow turned Sydney's head.

"No!" Vaughn said sharply. "It was not by choice that we went to work for her. I did it to stay alive and Sydney did it to buy us some time until we could find a way to escape."

"Mike, why didn't you contact us when you got to Rome?" Weiss asked. 

"We tried! We called Headquarters in L.A., but you were both gone and Devlin was in Washington." He gave his friend a helpless look. "Without someone to back us up, we didn't think we'd have much credibility if we tried to contact the Embassy or one of the CIA branch offices in Europe."

"We weren't in L.A. because we were on our way here." Weiss told him. "After the call came in, we hopped on a plane as soon as we could."

"Vaughn, you said you suspect Sark made the call to Weiss." Jack spoke up. "Why would he deliberately sabotage your mission?"

"Because getting rid of Sydney was more important to him." Vaughn replied matter-of-factly. "Irina had ideas of installing Sydney as her second-in-command--maybe even taking over for her eventually--and Sark was vehemently opposed to that."

"Sydney's her daughter." Jack pointed out. "Not that I believe she ever would have accepted, but it would only be natural for Laura--I mean, _Irina_--to want to hand over the reins of her organization to her offspring." Jack silently cursed himself for his flub. He had to start thinking of Sydney's mother as _Irina_. Laura had just been an illusion created solely for his benefit.

Vaughn groaned inwardly. _Sydney, where are you when I need you_? "Sark thought that he deserved to be next in line." He hesitated briefly. "Because he's her son." Vaughn said the words softly, but Jack heard him loud and clear. Weiss gaped at him.

"Her son?" Jack repeated. "Laura had another child?" He had slipped up on her name yet again, but didn't notice this time because he was so shaken by Vaughn's revelation.

"Yes." Vaughn replied, silently hoping against hope that Jack wouldn't ask him what he was about to ask him.

"Sark looks to be several years younger than Sydney." Jack observed, the blank expression on his face a mask for how he was really feeling inside. "Would you happen to know how old he is?" His tone was abrupt and to the point.

_Damn_ _it_! "I think Sydney told me once that he was in his early twenties." His words came out stiffly. "Maybe twenty-one or twenty-two." Vaughn could almost see Jack's brain quickly figuring out the math and he watched as a stunned look came over the senior agent's face as the older man came to the realization that it was possible for Sark to be his son.

Thankfully for Vaughn, Jack did not have a chance to badger him with any further questions.

_Because they heard the gunshot_.

Somewhere in the bowels of St. Peter's Basilica, Michael Vaughn suddenly felt very cold.

_To be continued_…

**Author's Note**: Come on, guys, what would _Alias_ be without a good cliffhanger? (grin)   The finale is finally here, so I had to keep you interested somehow.

Seriously, all you wonderful readers out there, please keep checking in with your reviews and you just might get the resolution to my story sooner than you think!

See ya later!


	21. A Life Lost and A Life Reclaimed

**Author's Note**: Hi everyone, just some thoughts: Please remember this is AU, so what's happened since the beginning of Season 2 does not apply.  Just wanted to clarify the whole Sydney-never-being-shot-before thing beforehand.

Also, I'm taking creative liberties as to Vaughn's location, ie. what he does and where he ends up after hearing the gunshot.  It's not really a big deal, but while some details of St. Peter's Basilica are factual (I visited the Vatican once), everything else is just for dramatic purposes.

Here you go with the final chapter!

*     *     *     *     *

As she watched Sark pull the trigger on his gun, Sydney had the odd sensation that she had entered into some sort of time warp, where everything happened in slow motion. She knew it wasn't possible, but it was almost as if she could literally see the bullets as they came barreling out of the gun with her body as their intended target.

The first one hit her in the right thigh and it made her gasp as a white-hot pain shot through leg. In her line of work, dodging stray bullets was a work hazard she regularly dealt with, but this was the first time she had ever been hit and it was more agonizing than she had ever thought possible.

The second bullet ripped into her right shoulder and the upper half of her body fell hard against the ground as the bullet tore through her jumpsuit and blood began to seep from her wound. Sydney clenched her teeth together to keep herself from crying out as she writhed on the ground in pain. She was not going to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her beg for her life.

"So what are you waiting for?" Sydney barked at him, struggling to sit up. "Why don't you finish me off?"

"Why, Sydney, what kind of brother do you think I am?" Sark gave her a wounded look. "I wouldn't harm a hair on your head."

"But apparently the rest of me is fair game?" She spat at him.

A little smile appeared on Sark's face, highlighted by the dim glow of the streetlamps. "Sydney, I'm only giving you what you want."

"Which is what?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "To walk with a limp for the rest of my life?"

"I'm giving you your freedom." Her brother declared.

Sydney was so stunned by his answer that she almost--but not quite--forgot about the two gunshot holes in her body. "My freedom?" She repeated uncomprehendingly.

"You never fooled me, you know." Sark said haughtily. "Mother fell for your little act as hard as she did because she so desperately wanted to believe that you'd forgiven her for leaving you when you were a child. She was so eager to have you back in her life that it clouded her judgment."

"That's why she couldn't see it." He mused. "But I did. I knew that someone with such a high moral code would never be comfortable with the idea of being next in line to take over an international crime syndicate."

"How could you know that?" She asked him warily. "You don't know me. Not really."

Sark shook his head. "I've known you since the beginning of my existence, Sydney. Your life history has been firmly embedded into my brain from the day I was born."

"I told you once that Irina would wax eloquently about her fantastically brilliant daughter to anyone who would listen." His lip curled. "You hear something enough times and it doesn't take a genius to realize what the score is. I knew she favored you." Sark's voice was hostile. "But I never thought it would matter because the last thing I ever expected was for you to be reunited with our mother."  

"And then you showed up in Taipei to rescue your friend." He gave a weary sigh. "Like an idiot, I didn't realize until much later that that was the real reason why Mother had me kidnap Mr. Tippin. A simpleton reporter like him wouldn't have known anything significant about our plans. It had all been just a ploy to get you to Taipei. Irina knew that your unflagging loyalty and devotion to the people you care about would fuel your desire to rescue him."

"But she didn't know that Michael and I would be at the warehouse to take down The Circumference." Sydney protested. "How could she have planned my abduction if she didn't know where I would be?"

"Mother knew that if Mr. Tippin was aware of The Circumference, he had to have been told by someone, most likely your father." Sark explained. "Since the CIA likes to kill two birds with one stone, it wasn't such a stretch to figure out that you would at least attempt to destroy the device."

"I suppose it hardly matters now if I told you that there was no way you would have gotten out of the warehouse without being apprehended." Her brother told her. "Mother had armed guards at every exit. She was waiting for you."

"So it was her plan all along to capture me and force me to work with her." Sydney said in a quiet voice.

"And I knew what that meant for me." Sark said defensively. "I would be cast aside, prohibited from taking my rightful place as Irina's heir apparent."

Sydney gazed up at her defiant younger brother with a stony expression on her face. "Sark, you just told me that you knew I would never want to become what Irina has become." She paused, wincing as she tried to keep the pressure on her wounded leg. Unfortunately, it meant her shoulder wasn't getting the attention it needed and she was vaguely aware that the front of her jumpsuit was now stained a bright crimson red. "You're right about me. I never would have taken over for her. I don't have it in me to be as cruel or as heartless as she is. I can't turn off my emotions as easily as she can."

Sark gave her his familiar smug look.

"So why was all this necessary?" Her voice took on an almost pleading tone. "Why did my _brother_ plan my execution over something he knew I never wanted, anyway?"

"Didn't I just say I never intended to kill you?" He said exasperatedly. "I may resent you, Sydney, but we have the same blood running through our veins and if there's one thing I believe in, it's that you don't turn on family."

"No, you only maim them slightly." She said sarcastically. "So what happens now? You've already got me sprawled on the ground. Should I be kissing your feet in gratitude for this _selfless_ act you've perpetrated?" Her voice was harsh. "Forgive me if I'm not showering you with praise over the fact that you shot your own sister as a token of your twisted version of brotherly love!"

"No, of course I realize that my methods are not to your liking, Sydney." Sark replied coolly, infuriating Sydney as he uttered the understatement of the year. "But look at it this way, Sis. My plan is brilliant in that we both get what we want. You get your life back and I retain my rightful place in the organization."

Sark eyed her speculatively, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Everything that Irina has is mine, Sydney." His voice was deadly quiet, but still menacing. "I know she had delusions of giving it all to you even if you didn't want it, but that won't happen now. I've seen to that."

_God, he sounded so damn smug_! His self-proclaimed "brilliant" plan had worked like a charm and she was ashamed to admit that a small part of her was irked about it. "Sark, tell me how you did it. How did you find me?" Her words came swiftly and urgently.

"I left my headlamp in the vault and I couldn't find my way back to our original entry point. Where we are now isn't anywhere near where the van was, so how did you do it?" Sydney was curious in spite of herself and at least if she kept talking, she wouldn't pass out from the pain.

"It was ridiculously simple, Sis." Sark grinned at her. "I knew about the isotopes. That's how I tracked you through the sewer. I knew where you would come up."

"Of course, I was a little worried when you were taking longer than I expected." His voice was full of false concern. "But I had every confidence in the world that my smart, resourceful big sister would triumph once again over adversity." He sneered.

"You knew about the isotopes?" Sydney looked at him disbelievingly. It was apparent now that she hadn't given him the credit he obviously deserved. "How?"

"Have you forgotten that they were used on me, Sydney? It's a fairly standard practice these days when you're trying to keep tabs on someone." Sark explained in a know-it-all-tone of voice. "Your father slipped them to you in Taipei when you hugged him. That's why you broke ranks even though Irina told you not to make contact with him."

"But how did you know my father would do such a thing?" She asked with an incredulous expression on her face. "You don't know him. You don't know anything about him!"

"It was something Mother once said. She said that your father would do anything for you and I knew she meant that quite literally. Any man as devoted as he would surely resort to whatever means necessary in order to save his daughter." Sark was actually impressed by Jack Bristow's fatherly devotion to his only child and didn't bother to hide it. "I know he's a very smart man and I know you know that, too. You had every reason to believe that he would have something up his sleeve and you were right."

"I envy you that, you know. That innate sense that you can depend on someone so absolutely and completely." Sark looked a bit wistful. "Lord knows I will never have that kind of relationship with my own father." His voice was a tad bitter.

To her utter disbelief, Sydney almost felt sorry for Sark at that moment and that was something she never thought would happen. In spite of the fact that he was the reason she was lying on the ground writhing in pain, for the first time, she felt as if this man standing over her really was her brother. Even though none of their parents were dead and gone, they both had experienced long stretches of their childhood without one or both of their parents. They both had gone through the same periods of loneliness and isolation from others. That realization became a sort of bond in itself; an awareness that their life experiences weren't as disparate as they thought they were.

Sydney wondered what their relationship would have been like if they had been born into a different family. Would she have grown to love him or would he always have been a thorn in her side? That was a question to which she would never know the answer.

"What are you planning to tell Irina?" Sydney tried to prop herself up and gasped again. She was starting to feel weak and light-headed from the loss of blood. If help didn't arrive soon, she might slowly bleed to death.

"I'll tell her you were shot trying to leave the vault and when you were unable to escape, you were captured and turned over to the local authorities." Sark had it all planned out down to the sorrowful expression he would present to Irina as he told his tale of woe. "She'll be upset, but she'll get over it eventually."

"Do you really think she'll be so indifferent about the fact that I'm gone?" Sydney raised an eyebrow. "You said it yourself that I'm her sole reason for living." She sneered at him sarcastically. 

"Are you really so concerned about Mother's feelings, Sydney?" Sark's lips twisted as he taunted her. "I realize that she will feel your loss quite deeply, but I'm confident that with her loving son's concern and support, she will get through it in an admirable fashion." He drawled.

Sydney's eyes narrowed. "Right, and of course she won't ever suspect her loving son's part in all of this."

"Of course not." Sark replied, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

Sydney was suddenly feeling too drained to fight with him any longer. Maybe Sark was right. Maybe she should be grateful to him. In his own perverse way, he was giving her something she had longed for ever since that first night when she found herself shackled to a chair in Taipei. He was giving her the chance to reclaim her life, such as it was. 

Sydney knew it would be no picnic for her when she got back home. She still had to deal with Dixon and face possible questions from Sloane. She would have to console and support Will through his own crisis as well as keep up her false front around Francie. The possibility of an inquisition by the CIA for the whole Taipei debacle might also be in the works.

But on the bright side, she was hopeful that her relationship with her father would somehow be strengthened by the separation they had had to endure. Sydney felt that they had come to a new understanding of sorts in where their relationship as father and daughter had been and where they wanted it to go. She wanted to forge a closer bond with Jack and for the first time in a long time, it looked as if he wanted that to happen as well.

And then there was Michael. Her gorgeous, sweet, sexy Michael. Sydney couldn't think of him without smiling and even in the midst of all her pain, he was still able to cause the corners of her mouth to turn up. She loved him so much, more than she had ever thought possible. She desperately wished he were here with her right now. Just having him by her side would be as comforting as wrapping herself in a warm blanket on a cold winter's night.   

"I'm sorry I can't stay any longer, Sydney, but someone may be along to investigate the gunshots soon and I can't risk getting caught." To his surprise, Sark felt a bit of a twinge as he looked down on his sister, briefly alarmed when her body started to convulse as she went into shock. 

  
"I know it looks like a lot of blood, but I think they're only flesh wounds." He felt awkward as he tried to reassure her that her injuries weren't as serious as they looked. Without knowing exactly why, Sark suddenly removed his jacket and bent down to place it around Sydney's shoulders. "I have a feeling that help is nearby, Sydney." He murmured softly in her ear before straightening up again.

"So long, Big Sister." Sark said in parting "I won't say goodbye because I know our paths will cross again, perhaps in the very near future."

As he started to walk away, Sydney summoned all of the strength she had left in her body in order to call out his name. "Sergei!" She knew her use of his given name would stop him in his tracks.

Sark turned back around to look at her, a questioning expression on his face.

"I'm still not sure why you're doing this," She said slowly. "But thank you."

His mouth quirked, but not into his usual smirk. He almost looked as if he was going to say something halfway decent to her, but then they heard a shout in the distance. Sark looked up, his eyes alert, and then he bade her a quick salute before taking off.

Sydney wanted to find out who or what had scared Sark off, but she was fading fast. The pain wracking her body was too unbearable for words and all she wanted to do was to escape from it. It became so all-consuming that she was not even aware as she slumped to the ground and slipped into unconsciousness, releasing her from her suffering and freeing her from the act of feeling. 

*     *     *     *     *

The moment the shot rang out, Vaughn bolted out of his chair as if he had been shot out of a cannon. He didn't know where he was supposed to go, but just kept yelling, "Where's the exit? Where's the exit?" and the people he encountered simply pointed him in the right direction.

He was disoriented coming out of the fluorescently lit hallway into the eerily quiet Basilica. For a few brief moments, Vaughn stopped to catch his breath and take stock of his surroundings. The scope of the Basilica's interior was truly massive and he felt dwarfed as he gazed up into the dome that rose several stories above his head. He had been to the Vatican a number of times as a tourist and if he remembered correctly, there were several doors from which to exit near the statue of Michelangelo's _Pieta_. Vaughn said a little prayer (this being an appropriate place for it) and then made a mad dash down one of the aisles, his hurried footsteps the only noise in the cavernous building.

Vaughn pushed open a heavy wooden door with all of his might and found himself standing outside under the cover of nightfall. It had been late afternoon when he and Sydney had arrived several hours before, but now he had only the moonlight to guide him.

He realized he was at the top of the steps in front of the Basilica. The immense portico of St. Peter's Square lay at his feet, the doric columns encircling the _piazza_ like a mother's arms embracing her child. He looked beyond the Egyptian obelisk in the center of the square and saw the two figures spotlighted in the shadow of the moon. One of them was standing and one of them…was on the ground. He started running.

_See, Syd, I can make tracks if I have to_! He didn't find it the least bit strange that he was running harder to save her life now than he had to save his own life back in Taipei. Truth was, his life would mean nothing without Sydney. Sark might just as well shoot him, too.

Sark ran off when he saw Vaughn coming towards them. He wanted to give chase--to make the bastard pay--but he knew that Jack was close on his heels and he could go after Sark as only an avenging father could.

Vaughn slowed before he reached the figure lying on the ground. Jack caught up to him a few moments later and passed him.

"Take care of Sydney!" He yelled. "I've got _him_!"

Vaughn knew that if Sydney was hurt, every moment counted, but for some reason, his feet wouldn't move. If she was gone, he didn't want to face it. He could see a pool of fluid, something dark and shiny in the moonlight, gathering into a puddle by her right knee. _Blood_, he thought grimly, _her blood_. Her life was draining away and he was doing nothing to stop it.

Vaughn shook his head as if to jolt himself out of his stupor and crossed the last few remaining steps to Sydney's side. He knelt down, a frown creasing his face as he noticed that she was wearing a man's jacket. Sark's?

"Syd?" His voice trembled, somewhere between a whisper and a croak. In the meantime, Weiss had arrived, but he stayed back, calling for an ambulance on his cell phone.

She gave him no reply. His hand shaking, Vaughn reached out and placed his fingers against the side of her neck, fearful of what he might (or in this case, might not) find.

_Thank God_! Her pulse was weak, but at least it was still there. The clamminess of her skin horrified him, however, and he realized her unconscious state was probably due to the fact that she had gone into shock as a result of an extreme loss of blood. A cloud suddenly passed over the moon, temporarily making the night even darker than it already was and Vaughn panicked when he couldn't tell where she had been hit. If the bullet had nicked an artery, then Sydney had to get to a hospital right away so that they could stop the bleeding. 

"Mike, the ambulance is on its way." Weiss told him in a hushed voice. "Here, take this to keep her warm." He shrugged out of his suit jacket.

Vaughn spread his friend's jacket across Sydney's upper torso. "Thanks, Eric." He was cradling Sydney's head in his lap, her satiny brown hair fanned out just as it had against the white silk pillowcase that had been on their bed that morning. Had it just been a few hours ago that he had woken up in bed beside her for the first time, marveling that the exquisite creature lying next to him was finally and truly his? Sydney always looked gorgeous in her designer gowns and expertly applied makeup, but to him, she had never looked more beautiful than she did waking up next to him, her face scrubbed and her hair tousled and a radiant smile on her face. 

"Sydney, baby, please wake up! Please, sweetie, can you do that for me?" Vaughn had a sudden flashback to when he had been seemingly dead to the world back in Taipei. He believed without a doubt that hearing Sydney's voice had brought him back. "Syd? Do you remember the guest house at your mother's estate in Taipei? You know how I told you I heard you talking to me? Well, I'm going to do the same thing for you. I'm going to bring you back just like you did for me." He knew he was babbling, but he didn't give a damn if he sounded like some raving lunatic.

"I love you, Sydney." His tone was fierce, masking his feelings of dread and desperation.  "I love you as I have never loved anyone in my entire life. I don't think my life began until I met you and if you leave me, I don't think I could go on." Vaughn was speaking to her from his heart, as honestly as he knew how to be.

"I know it sounds corny, but you make me want to get up in the morning." He said seriously, his eyes sad. "You're the reason I went to work everyday, partly because I knew I would get to see you, but also because each day brought us one step closer to bringing down SD-6. Everything we did meant we were one step closer to our future together."

"And we can still have that future, Sydney. It'll take time, but we'll have it if you just stay with me. You remember how we talked about the house and the lawn and the four bedrooms we needed to fill?" Vaughn was still having trouble believing that they had been in a state of absolute bliss that very morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "Our kids will be so beautiful, Syd. If we have a girl, I insist that she look just like you with big brown eyes and silky brown hair. She'll be a champion kickboxer by the time she's six years old and I won't ever have to worry about any boy taking advantage of her." He let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a chuckle, thinking that Sydney would like to have a daughter who was as kickass as she was.

"And if we have a boy, he'll definitely have to love hockey like his old man. I won't say I hope he looks like me--" Sydney suddenly stirred in his arms and his heart leapt in his chest. "Syd?" His voice cracked.

"Michael?" Her voice sounded faint.

Sydney hadn't realized she had passed out until she heard Vaughn's voice weaving a nice little tapestry in her brain. He was telling her a wonderful story about a big house and a nice green lawn and lots of children running around. She could picture it in her mind so vividly. Sydney wanted something along the lines of a beautiful old Victorian mansion; she didn't care for anything modern, with glass walls or steel beams or odd angles. She would plant an English cottage-style garden in the backyard with lots and lots of flowers and maybe even add a vegetable patch or two, much to the dismay of the children, who would be like all little kids with their intense dislike of spinach and Brussels sprouts. She could see Vaughn coming home from work and complaining that the kids had left their bicycles in the driveway again, which meant he couldn't park inside the garage without getting out of the car in order to move them. But knowing Vaughn as she did, she knew he wouldn't be able to stay angry at them for long, especially if one of them was a little girl with long straight brown hair and solemn-looking brown eyes.

And of course, she would always stick up for an adorable little boy with sandy brown hair and beautiful green eyes like his dad. 

"Oh, thank God." Vaughn murmured, swiping his hand across his face to wipe away the tears he hadn't even realized were falling. 

"Michael, our…little…boy?" Her breathing became labored as she struggled to remain conscious.

"Yes, sweetie, what about him?" Vaughn tried to put on a brave smile for her.

"I…would want him…to look…like…you." Sydney replied with great effort.

Vaughn's heart flip-flopped. "Sydney, what happened? Can you tell me where were you were hit?"

"My…leg…and…my shoulder." She tried to show him and winced in the process. "It hurts, Michael." She whimpered.

"I know, baby, I know." He crooned, moving his hand to gingerly inspect her leg. Her right thigh was wet and sticky. "Weiss, hand me your Swiss army knife." He asked his friend, who carried the knife with him at all times because you never knew when a good bottle of wine would need opening. Vaughn flicked open the knife implement and grabbed the hem of Sydney's right pantleg. He notched a slit in the fabric and tore the leg of her jumpsuit until he reached her thigh, grimacing as she flinched beneath his touch even though he was trying to be extra-gentle. He muttered an apology to her and then wrapped the ripped pantleg around her wound, hoping that it would stopgap the bleeding until the ambulance arrived.

Then Vaughn turned his attention to her shoulder. He removed the jacket from around her shoulders and let out a stream of curse words when he saw the damage Sark's bullet had wrought. It appeared Sydney had been unable to tend to both of her wounds (a bit hard to do as she had been lying on her side when he found her, which effectively cut off the use of one arm) and as a result, she had lost a copious amount of blood from her shoulder. He spied the dark bloodstains that had soaked both the front and back of her jumpsuit as well as a good part of her sleeve and directed a few more choice expletives at Sydney's little brother. Vaughn immediately started slashing at the expensive Italian-made suit jacket with Weiss' knife, relishing the sound of the ripping fabric as he shredded the coat into bandages he could use in order to keep Sydney from losing any more blood.

"Where's…Sark?" She breathed heavily.

"The son of a bitch ran off when he saw me coming." Vaughn growled. "I swear if I ever get my hands on him--"

"No…Michael." Sydney cut him off, shaking her head.

"Syd, that asshole tried to kill his own sister!" He cried out. Maybe the pain was making her delirious. "I know you never bonded with the guy, so how can you defend him?"

"Not…kill." It was all she could do to get the words out.

"Yeah, lucky for him he was a lousy shot!" Vaughn fumed, misunderstanding her. "Well, you just wait until Jack gets hold of him! I can assure you that your father will get in more than just a couple of shots at the guy!"

"My father's…here?"

Vaughn nodded. "He went after Sark."

"No!" Sydney wailed, shaking violently and grimacing through the pain. "Michael, call him back!" She begged.

"Syd…" Vaughn was baffled by her reaction.

"Please!" She said imploringly.

"Okay, okay, just calm down, sweetie." He said comfortingly and looked over his shoulder. "Eric, will you go find Jack and tell him Sydney wants him?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Vaughn nodded. He turned his attention back to Sydney. "Okay, Syd, Eric's gone to go find your father."

Her eyes closed in relief. "Thank you."

"Sydney, I don't understand." He looked puzzled. "Sark _is_ the one who shot you, isn't he?"

She nodded silently.

"So why do you not want us to go after him?"

Sydney opened her eyes again and looked straight into his. "Michael, he knew."

"Knew what?"

"He knew…we wanted…to escape." She enunciated through gritted teeth.

"What?" Vaughn was bewildered by her declaration. "How?"

"It's a long story." Her face contorted as if the simple act of speaking was too much for her.

"You don't have to tell me now, Syd." He said quickly, wanting to spare her any further discomfort. "Save your strength."

She nodded in assent. "But that's why he shot me. He's going to tell Irina I was hurt and couldn't get away."

A realization suddenly dawned on him. "That's why he called Eric." He said softly.

"What? Who called?" Sydney said, confused.

"Eric received a tip from an anonymous caller, telling him where we would be tonight." Vaughn explained to her. "That's why we couldn't reach them at Headquarters in Los Angeles. They were here waiting for us." 

He shot her a stunned look. "Sark didn't want to sabotage us. He wanted them to rescue us."

"Well, 'rescue' sounds a bit more charitable than what it really was." Sydney gave a long sigh. "He just wanted me gone, so that he would once again be Irina's sole heir to the throne."

Vaughn's mouth quirked. "Well, I knew his motives wouldn't have been totally altruistic. There had to have been something in it for him."

"Sydney!" Jack's voice suddenly pierced through the night air. Then he was by her side. 

"Sydney, honey, are you okay?" His voice was full of concern and she started to cry. She was so over trying to be brave and strong. Her daddy had come to rescue her.

"Oh, Daddy!" Her father wrapped his arms carefully around her into a solid, sturdy bear hug and she felt like a little girl again, the one who ran crying to her father when she fell on the sidewalk and scraped her knee.

"Vaughn, is it bad?" Jack asked over his daughter's shoulder.

"One shot to the right thigh. One shot to the right shoulder. No vitals hit, but a substantial amount of blood loss." Vaughn informed him in a perfunctory manner, as if a no-nonsense attitude would help him maintain his control. "I don't think the injuries are life-threatening, but we really need to get her to a hospital." He looked grim.

Jack looked visibly relieved that Sydney's injuries were not as bad as they could have been. "Thank you for protecting my daughter while I was unable to." He said gravely.

"I love her, Jack." Vaughn replied with equal sincerity. "I would have protected her with my life if I had to."

They finally heard the wail of the siren blaring in the distance.

Sydney heard what Vaughn said and smiled. She pulled back to look at her father. "Dad, please try and be happy for us. I know you think I'm making things more difficult for myself by falling in love with Michael, but I'm _happy_ for the first time in a long time."

Jack gave her a long look. "Sydney, that's all I ever wanted for you." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "And I will support you in any way I can." He squeezed her hand and then straightened up. "I'll go see if I can help direct that ambulance over here." He left the two of them alone.

Sydney looked up at Vaughn. "Did that sound like a ringing endorsement to you?" She asked.

"I think your dad will help us out if we need it." Vaughn conceded. "I actually think he respects me now."

She smiled at the incredulous tone of his voice. "Yeah, and all it took was me getting shot to do it." She quipped. Maybe her giddiness at her father's acceptance of Vaughn was making her immune to her pain. "What do you think we'll need to do in order for him to approve of our getting married someday?"

"I don't care as long as it doesn't involve you and a bullet." Vaughn retorted. "I happen to like your body just the way it is, thank you very much."

"You know, ordinarily I'd jump on an innuendo like that, but right now, I'm just not up to it." She gave him a half-hearted attempt at flirtation. "Michael, where is the ambulance?" Sydney knew she sounded whiny, but in this case, she felt she was entitled. 

"It'll be here soon, Syd." Vaughn said soothingly and then he let out a long sigh. "You know, everything's going to be very different from the minute we get home." He said philosophically.

"I know." She said soberly.

"I don't even know if I have a job anymore and you're going to have to deal with what you know about Sloane and your mother and Sark…"

"We'll get through it, Michael." Sydney said determinedly. "We both know it won't be easy and we'll have to be very careful, but if I've learned one thing out of this whole crazy mess, it's that I love you and I don't want to lose you."  
  
"You won't, Sydney." He vowed. "We've gone through too much to go back to the way things were before. We've said things--"

"--and done things," She added with a suggestive leer in her voice that made him grin.

"--and done things," Vaughn amended. "that have changed our relationship forever. You mean everything to me, Syd, and I couldn't give you up if I tried."  
  


Her heart was so full of love for this wonderful, caring man, who held her in his arms as gently and as tenderly as a newborn baby. So many terrible things had to happen for them to even meet, but by some miracle, they had found each other and they both knew it was meant to be.

"I love you, Michael Vaughn." She whispered, reaching her hand up to cradle his face.

"I love you, too, Sydney Bristow." And they sealed their promise of a future together with a kiss.

THE END

**Author's Note**: Wow, it's finally finished.  I honestly didn't expect this to take as long as it did to tell and I just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review.  I really loved writing this story and I hope you all enjoyed it.

I'll probably be seeing you all again in a few weeks with another story (much shorter this time) and I hope you'll check it out when it gets posted.

Thanks again,

Rhonda

Oh, yeah, P.S. to jen (dropstitch@juno.com) about the restaurant: Thanks for the shout-out, but no, it doesn't actually exist. Just a figment of my over-active imagination.


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